Dear Stupid
by Broken Oken
Summary: Enter the hysterical journal entries of Smoken Oliver Oken as he deals with a cynical psychiatrist, an ugly creature known as the 'Jerk Rat', and newfound feelings for one of his best friends? Major MileyOliver, slight LillyJackson, and sort of MileyJake.
1. Worms

Heeey, Hannah Montana fans:D Kaylee here with a nice little Oliver-centered fic… Of course, Moliver, since it's my favorite, but that's not what the story's completely about.

(Oh, and in case you were wondering, I had to make a few edits on this chapter because I realized maybe I'm as dumb as a 'jerky worm-rat', as Oliver says.)

_Full Summary_: Oliver's mom is a little over protective sometimes. So when she suspects something has gone horribly wrong in his life, when nothing has, she sends him to Dr. Harms, a cynical psychiatrist who Oliver believes wants nothing else but to make his life miserable. However, Oliver is required a bit of homework before each meeting with the psychiatrist -- to keep somewhat of a journal to record his emotions. At first, Oliver is convinced this will do nothing but cramp up his hand, but as he turns pages in his notebook, he begins to know himself a whole lot better than what he thinks, and maybe discovers a few problems he didn't even know he had... Told completely through Oliver's point-of-view and journal entries. Oh, and don't forget the Moliver. )

I won't update too regularly because I have a life, and it's hard for me to find time to sit down and write something anymore unless it's required for school. But I'll try my best! Especially if you guys review and make me happy. Yay.

ALSO -- this is the only 'chapter' that is not told through journal entries, okay?

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Hannah Montana. Sorry to get your hopes up. :p

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER ONE: Worms

You know, it is quite amazing how I allow myself to be put in such an incredibly ridiculous situation. I'll admit there has been a few times in which I let myself go temporarily insane due to my stupidity.

Well, er, not stupid. Just a bit clumsy in the brain…al area. Medulla Oblongata? Or whatever. Like I really care about science. They make you actually dissect things in that class. Freshman year, we dissected worms. WORMS. Where is this going to get me in my life? I'm not gonna work on a worm farm! Oh, sick! Worms are seriously gross. I mean, I may be a boy, but I have rights to be disgusted by creepy crawly things, too.

Okay, sorry, I tend to ramble sometimes about absolutely nothing of the slightest importance.

So, yeah. Where do I begin with my now horrible life?

Let's see. Most parents are normal. Well, scratch that, they're all a little odd. But anyways, my mom's a little bit different. And that's putting it as nicely as possible considering just the other night she was wearing a sombrero on her head at the dinner table. So, me thinking just like you would, I asked, "What in the name of Hannah Montana is that thing on your head?"

My mom, acting as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, went, "Taco night, Ollie! I decided to spice things up a bit! Oh, SPICE!" and started laughing at her own lame joke.

I don't quite know how to react in these awkward little moments she puts me in, so I just stare at her and sit down. Which is a brave move in my opinion, since it's a well known fact my mom can't cook anything even somewhat edible.

But this is only one of her little quirks. Her main oddity happens to be her over protectiveness. She's one of those mothers that annoyingly call you forty-three times a day just to make sure your Achilles tendon hasn't fallen out of place. Don't ask me what that even means, I really don't, but it's just one of the general health problems I guess you can run into at a typical day at school, or the beach, well, to my mom anyways.

So back to her over protectiveness. Well, I guess that when we have dinner at the table every night, and she asks me, "So, how was your day, Oliver?" I am supposed to know that I must go into drastic detail. 'Cause supposedly replying with a simple, "Oh, fine," means that I am a "depressed emo kid that wants to run away from home because he hates his mother."

So, because of me being so oblivious to my bluntness, my mom has decided that I would be a lot better off if I had "someone to talk to". Which makes no sense, because I'm pretty sure my two best friends know more about me than I do. And the two of them could talk my ear off. Well, both my ears actually. And I definitely could get a girlfriend to "talk to" anytime I want. And more than just talk to, if you know what I mean. And don't take that pervertedly.

But, yeah, I mean, I'm Smoken' Oken.

Well, Smoken' Oken apparently means nothing in Mom World. Because she is now sending me to a psychiatrist.

Just like you, I do not see her reasoning here at all. It is not like I am a suicidal kid. I'm a good kid. Well, sort of, I'm not the brightest, I guess. I mean, there was this one time at the mall where I saw this "jeans half off" sign. Imagine my embarrassment when I ran, rather quickly and too excitedly, into the clothing store, expecting girls to be walking around with their jeans literally HALF OFF.

Let's just say I have not walked into that store since.

But okay. Because of my mom, I am now sitting here in a cold (think Ice Age degree temperature), waiting room, hugging myself in order to survive from the bitterness. My company includes a stack of crumpled magazines, all with giant phrases such as "YOUR GUIDE TO HAPPINESS!" and "Love yourself before others!", oh, and there's this old guy with a polka-dot tie sitting across from me. He doesn't notice I'm here, though, judging that his eyes are completely shut and a really scary noise I'll classify as a snore is coming from his mouth.

Suddenly, a woman with short, jet black hair enters the room. She was dressed in all white, except her jacket was huge. She had red-rimmed glasses, currently placed on the edgiest point of her ugly, big nose. She was looking at me oddly with a black eyebrow raised and spoke, "You Oliver?"

With the way she said my name, I feel insulted. It was like she was pronouncing the name of a worm. And like I stated before, I hate worms. And me and worms, we have nothing in common unless some worm out there's mother is forcing him to go to a psychiatrist out of the insanity of her heart.

So with the same "worm"-tone, I reply, "Yeah, what's it to ya?"

"Don't get smart with me, kid, but Dr. Harms will see you now."

I didn't even bother wasting any more of my breath on this hag. But what's intriguing is that my psychiatrist's last name is Harms. And yet he's suppose to HEAL me. Not HARM me. I'm not even the slightest bit amused at the irony here.

Well, okay, I am. But only a little. Whatever.

I follow Ms. Crab-apple to a small room on the left side of a narrow hallway. I felt a little bit claustrophobic, which was a first for me, but when I stepped inside the room, I lost that feeling because it was huge. There were a few chairs, a giant green couch, and a wooden table placed in the center. Instead of claustrophobia, I now felt uncomfortable and just plain uneasy. Like I was trapped in an experiment. I looked around, trying to ignore how icily quiet it was, and how loud of a noise the soles of my shoes made against the tiled floor. Paintings of the Piccaso-type surrounded the tan walls, but before I could even examine any, I heard footsteps.

"Oliver Oken," a calm voice says behind me.

I spun around, startled. Dr. Harms was not anything of what I expected. For one, he wasn't a he unless grown men have cleavage problems. She had chestnut brown hair hanging limply on her shoulders and a clipboard embraced tightly to her chest. She, like Ms. Crab-apple, was dressed in all white, but wore white heels which were currently clicking hard against the floor in impatience.

All I could do was stare straight back into her hazel eyes I was so shocked. Transfixed, even.

We stood there facing each other for a total of about fifteen seconds before I was able to stutter out, "D-Dr. Harms."

She smiles at me finally, breaking at least some of the awkwardness. "Why, yes, that's me. Now that we've been properly introduced, why don't you take a seat and we'll talk?"

"Uh, right." I was going to argue with her, but she was a little intimidating. I'm sure many guys would find this situation a little fantasy-like, having such an… er… attractive psychiatrist as the one in the room with me, but I guess I'm not like most guys because I didn't exactly feel the need to start running away with my imagination.

God, almighty, this better not mean I'm gay, and she is going to help me find this out in some future session of ours. Oh, God, no. Sick, sick, sick.

"So, Mr. Oken, your mother has told me a lot about you. She says you're quite the comedian sometimes. That is, she says, when you actually talk to her."

I was sitting in a turquoise chair, staring back at the woman. She had not taken a seat yet. I felt even more intimidated, like whatever was to come out of her mouth was the way it was, and I was going to have to accept it.

So I better hope she doesn't start saying I'm gay. Dear Lord. Please.

"Yeah," I say. "I guess you could say that." I suddenly felt a burst of self confidence, which was weird when this lady frightened me. I found myself continuing with, "It just comes as an added bonus with the whole package. I mean, they don't call me Smoken' Oken for nothing."

She laughs. "Smoken' Oken, eh? At least you have confidence. Most people who see me lack it completely and it's my job to make them see the greatness inside of them."

"Oh. I mean, well, uh, I'm not cocky. I'm not the greatest thing on the planet, nobody is, we all have our flaws. And I guess I'm no exception. Even if I don't think there is anything really wrong with me right now. Mom's the crazy one. She's the one who should be in here, not me."

Dr. Harms smiles again at me. "Well, Mr. Oken, I've been known to bring out problems in people they didn't know they even had. I'm sure your mother has a better explanation to why you've been sent here than you being so quiet around the house. And whatever your problem may be, I'm here to help it go away."

I just stare at her because I knew I didn't belong here. I have no problem. I'm not a crazy person. I don't need help. I am perfectly okay with my life, in fact, rather happy about it. Except for the fact that I'm sitting in a psychiatrist's office at the moment. Maybe this is my actual problem?

"Well, this is our first session," she says after she realizes I'm not going to reply. "So I'd like to get to know you better. How old are you, Oliver?"

"Sixteen," I say, then right as her mouth opened, I add, "Almost seventeen."

"So… junior then?"

"That's right."

"Do you like school?"

"Eh, it's alright. I'm a kid, you can't expect me to love it."

She puts a pen to her lips. "Got any friends?" she asked.

I stare at her again. Was she kidding?

"Uh, well, duh."

She stares right back. "Excuse me. I don't know you even at all, Mr. Oken. For all I know, you could be the stereo-type lowlife of the school that nobody supposedly likes."

"Well, I do have friends. Two are the best friends you could ever ask for."

Dr. Harms smiles for the trillionth time. "So tell me about them."

"Well, let's see," I scratch my head, picturing the two girls who complete my life. Lilly's image of blonde hair, her many assorted hats, blue eyes, and skateboards came floating into my mind. I smile; she's so easy to describe.

"One of them seems to always be running on a sugar high. She's very talkative. But I've known her all my life practically."

Dr. Harms stares at me. "Alright. Does she have a name?"

I do believe she takes me as an idiot if she's asking such a question.

"Uh, yeah."

It was silent for about six seconds when she asked, "Well, are you going to tell me it?"

"And why would I do that?"

"You do realize everything said in this room is kept in strict confidence unless it's something completely serious like suicide, right? I don't repeat anything without permission."

Somehow, this seemed unbelievable. She was an attractive woman, no doubt married. And if I were a husband to a psychiatrist, I'd want to know everything or else I'd feel like she was keeping things from me, or having an affair with a client.

But that's just me. I'm insanely jealous of just about any guy in the world. Jake Ryan for example. Scenario: Jake Ryan, Zombie Slayer television star and heart-throb, comes to Seaview Middle School my eighth grade year. Outcome: Every girl falls head over heels for the punk. Except Miley, my other best friend besides Lilly, until she, too, fell under his spell. Believe me, when a celebrity like Jake Ryan attends the same middle school as a guy like me, there's going to be some ego damaging. And definitely not on his part either.

Dumb jerk he is. Jerk Rat is what his real name should be. He's a slimy, jerky rat. Like a worm even. I've said it a hundred times, and I'll say it again -- I HATE worms. I'm glad he left for good. He was supposed to be in Romania for four months and return, but he never really came back here. He was sent to a different school, which is okay with me. Now I don't constantly hear Miley talk about him. Which, I guess, she still does sometimes since he did kiss her in eighth grade and everything (which was flipping four years ago!!!!! Get over it, woman!), but I don't know. It's annoying. I don't like him. And it pisses me off a lot that one of my best friends does. Nobody should like a worm-rat like him.

Anyways. Now that you know how much I hate jerky worm-rats…

"Alright, sure. Her name is Lilly," I decide to give in. I figured it was going to slip out eventually.

"Pretty name," Dr. Harms remarks, and I just sit there not knowing how she wants me to react to this. So, she saves me the awkwardness and says, "Other best friend? What's he like?"

I hate when people automatically assume that just because I'm a guy, I have guy best friends. I don't know how, but mine are both girls. Really, I put up with a lot, and people don't understand just how much a lot really is.

A lot is listening to countless hours on three way phone conversations about how cute a boy-that's-not-you is. A lot is sitting on a bed while your best friends giggle and paint each other's toenails, and you don't join in because painting your toenails is anything but manly. A lot is being dragged by the arm into the mall, into every store possible, listening to the squeals of "THAT IS SO CUTE!" every two seconds, and then, even after all your whimpering, you are still forced to carry every single shopping bag, each weighing about three or four shirts' worth, so that by the end of the day, your arms can no longer function properly enough to even play your favorite PS2 video game.

So really. I deserve a freaking medal.

"Well, for starters, it's a she," I try not to sound annoyed, but oh well, I do anyways. "Her name's Miley. She's well…" I didn't want to say my other best friend was a national pop singer. I had kept her secret for so long, and I wasn't about to go pouring it out to a complete stranger. I focused my mind on Miley alone, picturing her long brown hair, her southern accent that made her stand out above everyone else, and just everything I thought about her in general.

But, for some reason, my mouth only managed to come up with, "She's… cool."

Wow. I feel so lame. I can't even think of a word to use for Miley. And she's supposedly one of my best friends. But it's not like I don't know how to describe her. She's just… Miley. Also known as Hannah Montana, international pop star sensation, that I happened to idolize with all my heart a few years back. Until, she revealed to me that she was really Miley. I can't exactly remember what happened except that suddenly my head hit the sand on the beach and everything wasn't so bright and pretty, in fact, I think I went out cold? And then Miley was looking down at me in concern, repeating, "Oliver? Are you okay?" until I finally found the nerve to look her straight in the eyes.

My best friend was the girl I supposedly "loved". I didn't know what to do. For a minute, I thought maybe I was in love with Miley. And then, the next minute, no. No, I was not in love with Miley. "She is one of my best friends, and that is wrong," I remember thinking even though my heart was still thumping out of control. Most likely because I was still in shock.

I mean, think about it. Your best friend walks up to you and goes, "Oh, hey, you know Britney Spears? I'm really her," and they are actually telling the truth! That just wouldn't be right! I mean, especially if your best friend is a boy, but you know what I mean.

"So your two best friends are girls?" Dr. Harms now asks, a question I was expecting, even though I thought I had made this quite obvious.

"Uh, yeah," I say as I watch her write down something on her clipboard. My eyes went wide, and suddenly my thoughts came out of my mouth in a very loud yell -- "THAT DOES NOT MEAN I'M GAY!"

She looks at me, eyes wide. "I never said you were. Calm down. But anyways, I'm not going to ask any further questions for this session."

I glance at the clock. It had been a total of eleven minutes. If my mom was actually paying for this, I was going to be even more upset about it than I already was.

"What? It's been eleven minutes! How can you tell anything about me in ELEVEN minutes?"

Dr. Harms smiles at me knowingly. "You see, that's the thing. I haven't ever had a patient who tells me much of anything interesting during their first session, no matter how long it lasts. So I came up with a plan to help. I'm going to give you a notebook. And your homework will be to write in it everyday. At least once. Go ahead and write more in it if you want. You don't have to let me read it, I just have to know you've written in it. If you want me to read it, just say so."

My mouth must've been open, because she then resumes her explanation, "Don't worry. It doesn't have to be a hundred pages long. You can write one sentence for all I care. I know you're busy with school and the work that comes with that."

"So," I begin, feeling slightly irritated. "You're saying I have to keep a DIARY? Those things girls keep to write about all their mushy mush feelings in?" I feel royally disgusted. The same feeling I had towards Ms. Crab-apple saying my name like it was a worm. And diaries were probably made for worms.

Seriously. She probably thinks I'm gay. Diaries are for homosexuals and worms.

I wonder if Jerk Rat keeps one. It'd be fitting.

She shrugs. "If you actually write in it, you'll get more of your feelings out in it. You may start to discover things about yourself you never knew."

Bullcrap, I think. A book is not capable of expressing anything of how I feel. Not even a little bit.

But, instead, I put on a fake smile and pipe, "Okay, sounds good," and take this light blue notebook from her hands and head towards the door. As soon as I hit the door, the notebook was going into the first garbage can I saw, no doubt.

"Oh, and Oliver?" Dr. Harms calls as I leave the room.

"Hm?" I barely reply.

"I know you're a teenage boy, but try to keep your eyes on my face next time, mk?"

WHAT THE --?!? I turn around, my face obviously on fire because she starts laughing. "Neehhff?" is what comes out of my mouth to my humiliation, which isn't even a word, but my tongue suddenly couldn't operate properly.

She just laughs. "I'm only kidding. Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow at five-thirty."

"Uh, right."

Tomorrow at five-thirty. Pshhh. I'm never coming back to this crazy lady ever again.

And I was not staring at her you-know-what's, thank you very much.

---

Hahaha, I love Oliver. He's my favorite. Please review and tell me what you think so far:D


	2. Pizza Rolls

-1Here's chapter two, guys! Thanks for all the reviews, it means a lot! I'll try to update as much as I can! Maybe twice a week at the most, but that's just a maybe because this is taking a lot of thought out of me, haha.

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Hannah Montana. Mucho sadness.

NOTE: Oliver's journal entries now begin. BWA HA HA HA HA.

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER TWO: PIZZA ROLLS WITH RANCH

**Monday, December 17th, 2007, 4:33 p.m., kitchen. **

This is seriously pointless. Pointless, pointless, I tell you. I have nothing to say about my personal life in here, and I never will. Dr. Harms is stupid. Ha. And she'll never even read this, so I can say it as much as I want.

DR. HARMS IS STUUUUUUUPPPIDDDD!!!!

And that's all I'm writing. Because like Dr. Harms, everything is stupid, including this diary stuff that will get me nowhere in life.

'm going to go eat a bunch of pizza rolls with ranch, only the greatest things that the entire galaxy will ever create, ever. And that is that.

SEEEEEYAAAAAA.

**Monday, December 17****th****, 2007, 6:02 p.m., kitchen, again.  
**

Okay, so the psychiatrist appointment tonight was thirty minutes worth of stupidity. Just like I thought it would be. Dr. Harms just went on and on about some story having to do with parental guidance and following the rules.

Okay, Dr. Harms, my mom's a cop. I follow the rules more than just about any kid I know. 'Cause my mom wouldn't ground me; she'd send me behind bars with a bunch of raving lunatics comparing their amount of teeth to each another.

I happen to have a great smile, naturally, being me, of course. So all those raving lunatics would knock me out in two seconds and steal all my pearly whites.

If only I were the cop. My mom would be breaking the law of insanity, so I could arrest her.

But yeah, the psychiatrist was stupid. I could be out surfing, or something actually somewhat FUN that DOESN'T involve sitting in a cold leather chair in front of a crazy lady, but noo. My mom is retarded and sends me to a psychiatrist. Unfair? Oh, I believe so. She'll just have to wait until our next family vacation. I am strapping her into a roller coaster. And she will suffer at one hundred feet in the air. Mwa ha ha.

Dr. Harms repeatedly tells me to pay attention, though, since I guess I was in "la la teenage boy fantasy land" throughout most of our meeting tonight. Which is so not the truth. I would hardly call me riding in a limo with a bunch of hot babes that were feeding me pizza rolls and dipping them in ranch for me "la la teenage boy fantasy land".

Of course, when I said this to Dr. Harms, she was like, "Cockyness is not going to get you anywhere in life, especially with bimbo blondes feeding you fattening, generic snack-foods with ranch."

Yeah, okay. And who's to say they were ALL blonde, THANK YOU VERY MUCH?

And pizza rolls -- GENERIC???? I don't even think this crazy lady knows who she's talking to. You don't insult pizza rolls in front of me. It's just plain lethal.

And cockyness? Did she not accuse me of staring at her -- um -- well, you know, those things. Let's call them pumpkins. They're round. --

Dear Lord. I am a perve. Crossing that out NOW.

But yeah, didn't she accuse me of that just yesterday? And I'M the cocky one. Right. And SHE went to school for eight years or whatever to study human emotions, personalities, and disorders? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THAT???

However, I somehow kept my cool. Even though, that pizza roll thing was _way_ too far.

Anyways. After that conversation with Dr. Harms tonight, she was all, "Write down your innermost feelings in your journal."

So you know what?

I HAAATTEEEEEEEE MYYYY LIIIIIFEEEE.

There you go. That's as deep as Oliver Oken goes.

Good-bye.

**Monday, December 17th, 2007, 9:45 p.m., bed. **

I don't know why I'm writing 'cause I already have.

I'm bored and can't sleep. So.

Yeah. Um.

Okay.

This didn't even help.

P.S. Dr. Harms, you are stupid.

And you will never read that. HAAAA.

Goodnight.

**Tuesday, December 18th, 2007, 10:32 a.m., U.S. History. **

I'm dying of boredom. Seriously, call the ambulance already. I cannot wait until school is out after Thursday. CHRISTMAS BREAK! Santa should come early this year, no doubt.

I'm not the least bit excited about the psychiatrist appointment after school. I don't think I need help at all.

HI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
-That was Lilly. Obviously. I mean, the usage of exclamation marks with hearts all around it is a bit frightening.

Let's see. Becca Weller is in this class. Awkward since we broke up and stuff. She sits diagonally to the right in front of me, too. And she occasionally turns around for God only knows what, most likely to piss me off, and says something to the girl behind her. And then she tosses her long hair back over her shoulder like the tease she is.

…And I don't know why I'm even writing about this. Wow. Good-bye.

BYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE  
-Lilly, The Awesomest Girl EVER!

(As you can maybe guess, Lilly sits in front of me. I don't even use the word 'awesomest'.)

(Except we did have the awesomest lunch ever today -- pizza rolls with ranch. I'm guessing that when I die and go to Heaven, a cloud full of pizza rolls with ranch will be waiting for me. It will have a "RESERVED FOR SMOKEN' OLIVER OKEN" sign and everything. Mm.)

(EDIT, later: Rereading that last bit, maybe I do need a bit of help.)

**Tuesday, December 18****th****, 6:43 p.m., bedroom.**

Dear Stupid,

Yeah, Dr. Harms instructed for me to name you something. And I thought this name suits you perfectly, Stupid.

So, Stupid. Dr. Harms tonight actually gave me an assignment in here, which is dumb because she's not my teacher. And she's not reading it anyways because it's MY life, not hers to pry into, even if she's getting paid by my insane mother to do so, bless her heart. My mom's, not Dr. Harms. Although, I'm sure Dr. Harms could use a few people to bless her heart because I don't know how anyone can stand her.

Tonight she was like, "Oliver, tell me about this Becca girl." I let her read my last entry because I got tired of her just staring at me in silence because I wasn't saying anything. I don't want to talk to her. Who knows. Maybe I will be accused of pumpkin-staring again.

I made it simple -- "Ex girlfriend."

Apparently, this is actually complex, not simple, because Dr. Harms was all scribbly in her clipboard, and telling me, "Oh, first love, classic case on many of my patients. I'm sure you still have feelings for her and everything. But there are so many other fish in the sea, Oliver! You did tell me you were Smoking Oking, right?"

It was annoying that she didn't even say Smoken' Oken right, but even more annoying that she thinks I still like Becca. Which I don't. Just because she's in my U.S. History class, in the way of the board sometimes, so I'm forced to stare at the back of her head, hoping I will develop some sort of laser vision superpower to zap her head off, doesn't mean I like her. In fact, I think that means I don't like her much at all.

She's stupid, I tell you. Dr. Harms, I mean. Becca I guess is stupid, too. Since she likes to flaunt herself in front of me. Ha. Like I care. I can flaunt, too. I just don't have your dumb long flowy hair, Becca. So MEH!

But whatever. I'm writing in you, Stupid, because Mom has the T.V. I don't know why, but she's watching a Hannah Montana concert, at which I bet I was there, so I'm not missing anything, and it's not like I don't KNOW Hannah Montana personally or something. (Oh, the beauty of sarcasm.) Besides, Hannah Montana concerts tons of girls. Which means about half will be hot. And at least half of them will want to write their number on my hand. And I will only call about half of them, if even. This is the only way I see math ever coming into my life.

Uh, yeah, anyways, I'm supposed to write out my "true thoughts about my best friends". My "dislikes" and "likes" about them. I really don't want to write paragraphs like an essay, so a list will do.

Oh, this reminds me. Lilly and Miley? Oh, it's just freaking HILARIOUS that I'm being sent to a psychiatrist. Like ROTFLMAO kind of hilarious. I don't even know what that term even means, but Lilly uses it online all the time every time I say something funny, I guess. Even when it isn't really funny. Like yesterday.

**O0okenator** (don't make fun of my screen name. I lack creativity, sue me.): i saw this guy on the beach yesterday

**O0okenator:** he was eating an ice cream cone and i wasnt payin any attention so i ran into him and his chocolate strawberry vanilla swirl got on my brand new $50 shirt!!!!

**sk8r4lfe92:** HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!!1111 ROTFLMAO.

**O0okenator:** … i had no idea it was that funny lilly. in fact it isnt. i couldve punched someone.

**sk8r4lfe92:** BUT UR NEW FIFTY $ SHIRT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. WHAT BOY DOES THAT!

And the rest of that internet conversation would make you lose brain cells, so I won't go into it.

Anyways, you'd think my friends would have the least bit of concern for me. I mean, people who go to the psychiatrist generally have a major issue. I mean, I don't, but you'd think at least Miley, being so caring as she is, would be all, "Oh, Oliver! What is wrong? I feel so sorry for you!!!" and give me a bunch of sympathy and sad faces that I probably deserve.

But no. She just thinks it'll blow over in a week. However, my mom's not that kind of "blow over in a week" kind of mom. Sometimes I feel like Miley's lucky she doesn't have a mom, as mean as that sounds. She gets a lot of perks that I'm getting majorly jealous of.

It's also very funny apparently that I have to keep a diary.

Crossing that out. JOURNAL. There, manliness restored.

But yeah. This is something how it went today.

Lilly: Oh, OLIVER! Are you writing about your passionate love for Sarah (the clingy weirdo dorky girl I somehow liked in eighth grade that Lilly and Miley will never let me live down) in there?

Miley: I can just see it now! "Her eyes, they shine radiantly like the sun! I only wish I could take her into my arms and kiss her until we run out of oxygen!"

Lilly and Miley: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! (die of girlish annoying giggles)

Me: I know where you two live.

But yes, anyways, since I'm way off-topic, here's the list I'm supposed to make.

LILLY TRUSCOTT

_Likes:  
_  
1. Best friend since forever. And we're not even the same gender. Go us.  
2. Always there for me and to make me happy when I'm down.  
3. She skateboards pretty good. I wish I could skateboard as well as her. I once tried this trick she did on a half-pipe and broke my nose. So I had this weird thing over my nose, and girls, like, avoided me. It was really a sad and emotional time for me. And thanks to Lilly and Miley's wonderful thinking skills, I was cursed with the nickname "Broken Oken" for about three weeks.  
4. She helps me with homework… sometimes.

I feel bad that I can't think of anything else to put here, but we all know I don't hate her, so relax.

_Dislikes: _

1. Since I've known her forever, she knows every LITTLE thing about me, like the time I wet my pants in the fourth grade at the movie theatre because I got scared.  
2. She's literally ALWAYS THERE FOR ME. Like, when is she ever… gone? Speak of the weirdo, she's calling me… Okay, back. That was about five seconds of my life wasted. And ear-drum damaging. I literally just got a squeal of, "OLIVER!!! COME OVER HERE!!!! ME AND MILEY ARE WATCHING HOME VIDEOS!!!!" Then, click. I'm not going over there…. Well, until I'm done with this list anyways. Girls are way too manipulative.  
3. She crashes into me on her skateboard. A lot. Ouch.  
4. She talks my ear off. This either means by screaming, shouting, or just talking without breathing in between sentences. Ouch, again.

And I think I'll just leave it to four things on each list so I can get going over to Miley's. I mean, I think they're at Miley's? Whatever, I'll just call to be safe. Oh, yeah, Miley.

MILEY STEWART 

_Likes_:

1. Her name for some reason? Just say it out loud -- MILEY! Uh, yeah, wow, I think Mom put something in the spaghetti tonight.  
2. She's (secretly) international pop sensation Hannah Montana. What's not to love there?  
3. Like Lilly, she's always there for me and making me smile. About a week ago, I was slamming my head into my locker repeatedly because of how confusing and stupid and dumb and I-could-go-on-forever-with-synonyms-of-the-word-"brain-frying" Algebra II is, and Miley came up to me and was like, "Hey, ya donut. Looks like Algebra II sucks. Can't do much, sorry, but here's a cookie." And she handed me a chocolate chip cookie. I know, this really isn't that great of a thing, but seriously. That chocolate chip cookie could've gave a pack of pizza rolls and ranch a run for its money.  
4. Uhh… she's pretty? I don't know?

I feel bad. I feel like I just put number four there because I couldn't think of anything else. But I'm not lying or anything. As awkward as that sounds, Miley is pretty and stuff. OKAY, MOVING ON.

_Dislikes:_

_  
_1. Every person in the whole world seems to like her.  
2. She has money that I definitely would kill for. Okay, not kill, unless it were a worm. Those things can diiiieeeee.  
3. She likes Jake Ryan, also known as Jerk Rat. Seriously, HOOOOW?! So he's famous and everything. And he's a "stud". But there are soooo many other "studs" out there! COUGH COUGH. One of my best friends should NOT like Jerk Rat. This is one jerky worm-rat I'd kill. (Refer to Dislike number two.)  
4. Her airhead ways sometimes. But that makes her Miley, and I like Miley.

Well, as a friend, I mean. Yeah. I can think my friends are pretty… shut up. Okay. Yeah.

I'm going to stop writing now and beg for the remote back. My hand is cramping. So not only is my mom paying for someone to try to become my brain, but also make me get arthritis by the time I'm twenty. Oh, joy, oh, rapture.

-----

Sorry it's not as funny as it was supposed to be, I got lazy and tired of editing it over and over again. The whole Moliver thing will really start next chapter, I think? And the next chapter's fairly shorter compared to these two, so I apologize in advance. Haha, that is saying people actually want me to continue. Anyways, reviews, pleeease?


	3. Bananas

Chapter Three, everyone! ) The beginnings of Moliver, I think, so get excited. -lame dance- Oh, by the way, if any one has any _suggestions_ on what they think Oliver should write about more, feel free to PM me. This doesn't mean I definitely will take your idea, but I need my brain juice to start flowing because I think I'm getting weak. Oh well, just read this and review at least, alrighty?

NOTE: This chapter is a little bit perverted. Hahaha, I'm sorry, but I still think it's a little funny. Maybe I'm just whacko? Hm.

_Disclaimer_: I still don't own Hannah Montana. And do you honestly think I'd be writing fanfiction if I did? Tsk, tsk.

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER THREE: BANANAS

**Tuesday, December 18****th****, 11:01 p.m., bedroom.**

Dear Stupid,

I flat out, to the tenth degree, hate my life.

No.

ELEVENTH degree.

That's right, _I went there_.

Miley's tonight was seriously one of the most _humiliating_ experiences of my life. And I mean, I've had about a trillion, but this… this just tops it all off with a giant red cherry. Who knew that HOME MOVIES were going to include something so horrible?

I'll make it short and sweet. (And, for further reference, DON'T LAUGH AT THE WORD SHORT. You will understand what I mean in a second, Stupid.)

There was a video with me, age six, running around the beach screaming, "YOU CAN'T CATCH ME, I'M THE GINGERBREAD MAN! HAHAHAHA!"

No. It gets worse.

I was _naked._

The _**NAKED**__ Gingerbread Man._

Banana and all.

And you know what banana means. So don't make me say it.

Uh, why do I keep referring to body parts as food? Is this a psychological problem???? First pumpkins, now bananas. Geez. Dr. Harms would probably go all ballistic and be like, "You have a mild case disorder of Fruit Syndrome!" or something.

Well, not Fruit Syndrome. That makes me sound like I'm gay.

Oh, but yes, Miley and Lilly have now fully seen my banana. Well, my six-year old banana. I can never look them straight in the eyes again without wanting to shoot myself. Well, at least without turning into the color of Heinz ketchup.

Oh, and Jackson, Miley's crazy brother who should be the one with the psychiatrist, made things worse because he saw this video, too. He was like, "_WEE DOGGIES!_ Look at that _little_ feller!"

Miley and Lilly, in short, were almost peeing their pants laughing.

Then Lilly went, "Oh, c'mon, Oliver! You just watched me taking a bath! It's like the same thing. This is payback!"

That is not the same thing, though. This is ENTIRELY different actually. Because when a seven or eight-year-old girl takes a bath, her pumpkins have not even sprouted.

Oh my God. CROSSING THAT OUT.

But yeah, it's not like I could've said that to Lilly in front of everyone. I mean, for one, you don't discuss pumpkin-growth with your two best friends. Especially when mine both have pumpkins.

Okay. Wow. I just need to shut up because this entry is just as humiliating as the situation.

Stupid, I'm glad you don't have the ability to speak because if you did, I'd take that ability away or put a giant piece of duck tape over your mouth. This entry is not to be seen or heard by, like, anyone. Seriously.

But yes. I'm going to stop writing now.

I'm massively embarrassed.

_(MASSIVE!!! YOU HEAR ME, STUPID!!!!!!!!!)_  
****

Wednesday, December 19**th****, 1:20 p.m., cafeteria.**

Dear Stupid,

Gym's shut down today for no apparent reason except to probably irritate me because Heaven forbid my life actually starts going in the right direction. So the P.E. classes are sent to the cafeteria for a study hall. If that's even what you want to call it considering people are jumping around like crazy people, screaming and shouting like monkeys in cages. I'm surprised no one's picking fleas off of each other.

I want to throw a banana at them, Stupid. Maybe that will silence their monkey antics.

AND BY BANANA, I MEAN _THE FRUIT!!!!!_

Like I'd actually pull out my… banana… to distract them.

Even though that would essentially work. If some kid threw out his banana I'd be like, stunned.

AND I MEAN THAT IN THE MOST UN-GAY WAY POSSIBLE.

ANYWAYS, I need to distract the wild monkeys so I don't have to yell everything to Miley like she's a deaf person or something just so she can hear me.

I'm like, "They look like monkeys."

And she like yells, _"WHAT DID YOU SAY, OLIVER????"_

And I repeat, more loudly this time, _"THEY LOOK LIKE MONKEYS!"_

_"THE CHILI TASTED FUNKY??"_

I decided to save my voice and go, _"YEAH, MILEY. THE CHILI TASTED FUNKY,"_ because it did make sense since we DID have chili today at lunch. And it sure did taste funky.

Of course, she yells, _"WHAT???"_ all over again, so I gave up and motioned for her to "never mind".

Yeah, I never knew Miley had P.E. this hour, seeing as at Seaview High School, boys and girls physical education is separated. Which is kind of a downer. I mean, I don't get to see girls in their short P.E. shorts. Mucho sadness.

Whoa. Perverted side of me again. But at least I didn't mention any pumpkins.

Until just then. Okay. Anyways. MILEY.

Miley and I are sitting at a table right now. Lilly doesn't have this hour of P.E. So we are by ourselves. _Alone_. Awkward. Most likely because she saw my banana yesterday. Okay, that sounds wrong, but you know what I mean.

So, yeah, Miley's trying to study for an Anatomy test she has next hour. Glancing at some of the words she has to memorize, I think I would be studying, too, if I had that class. Well, actually, I'd just pretend I threw up in the bathroom so I could be sent home.

Seriously. What are scientists thinking when they're like, "Let's call this leg muscle Gracilis"? I'm guessing there's an evil scientist in the group that's like, "Oh, let's make up words that make no sense! This way, poor children all over the universe can suffer hours' worth of research and study for their science classes! _BWA HA HA HA HA!_ Now, my henchmen… let us have a Boys' Night Out and go and name bacteria!"

This madman deserves to die slowly and painfully. Perhaps he should get his Gracilis chopped right out of him. Right along with the guy who introduced teachers that it's okay to dissect worms in front of poor kids like Oliver Oken.

Only worm I'd _ever_ want to see get dissected is Jake Ryan. Excuse me, Jerk Rat.

But I mean, really, think about it, Stupid. Leg. Gracilis. There is no relation there. One L in each word is as similar as it gets. Woo-hoo. Try not to get them confused. SARCASM.

At least the cafeteria has kind of quieted because the principal is in here for some reason. This way Miley can actually study without screaming.

Oh, wow. Miley just leaned over (um, dangerously close to my face, causing a most interesting burning reaction in my cheeks) and questioned with a smile, "Why are you writing about pumpkins in your psychiatrist journal? Halloween already?"

I still can't look her in the eyes. Stupid banana.

But of course, out of all the words she sees. I'm a really bad liar, but I managed to come up with some lame excuse that "no, pumpkins are a deep symbolization of a psychology term of emotion".

Which is kind of funny if you really think about the true meaning of pumpkins.

Miley just went, all confused, "Are you suffering from a pumpkin disorder then?"

I don't even understand how someone who knows what a Gracilis is can even ask a question. It's a good thing Miley's pretty.

I seem to be writing that a lot. I'll cross that out in case someone starts getting weird matchmaking ideas. _COUGH LILLY COUGH_.

And if you're reading this, Lilly, pay attention. For one, you shouldn't be reading my journal. It's my business, and another -- Me and _Miley?_ Um, no. Because best friends? We _don't_ date each other. Sorry. That's risking a true blue friendship right there.

But you know, Stupid, this is going to sound really strange, but I've always had this crazy idea that I'm going to end up dating either Miley or Lilly. I don't know, it's weird, so shut up, Lilly… and --

Okay, sorry, that was slightly awkward. Miley saw some more stuff I'm writing. She went, "Why are you writing about dating me?"

And here's the weird part. I got all nervous! Like I was _actually_ hiding something! When I'm not. Seriously! There is _nothing_ to hide here. Absolutely zero; nada.

Except about the pumpkins and the bananas. No one needs to learn about pumpkins and bananas, okay, Stupid?

Well, er, unless you are a doctor.

Okay, awkward subject.

ANYWAYS. I was all nervous, and she was looking at me like… I have no idea, but it was an odd kind of look like, "Oliver, are you on medication that makes you sweat uncontrollably through your shirt?" But I'm not on medication, and I don't think my sweat has soaked through my shirt yet, so this is confusing.

I said, without thinking and much to my embarrassment, "I just said you're pretty, but I was like, I'd never date you."

Which, you know, puts someone as cool-collected as me in an incredibly uncomfortable situation. You don't just look at your best girl SPACE friend and blurt, "Oh, hey, you're pretty, but we won't date ever."

That's like telling someone that their breath doesn't smell like onions, but they should probably get a breath mint anyways. AKA the situation that happened today in first hour when Lilly was yapping about some guy she really wants to kiss, but can't because she's afraid he'll think her breath smells like onions or something. So, I just told her very honestly, like a best friend should do, "It doesn't smell like onions, but take a breath mint."

I got a very hard slap on the arm. It hurt. I whimpered.

But yeah, I didn't mean to make it sound all insulting to Miley. I just meant it as… Best friends, you know, Stupid?

Well, Miley just stared at me with her giant eyes and cocked her head to one side like a puppy dog.

For a second, I thought she was thinking about the banana incident and that she wouldn't date me or something because of it, so I went all retardedly, like I have no communication skills whatsoever, "N-NO, NO OFFENSE, MILEY. Just you know, BFF! Best FRIENDS forever. Not best COUPLE forever. That'd be BCF!" And then added, to my horror, "HA HA HA HA!" like I had just told the funniest joke.

And I hadn't.

I probably deserve the Biggest Donut award. And I mean biggest.

Besides. Miley is probably still obsessed with Egocentric Mr. Jerk Rat and all his worminess, not my donuttyness. I don't see why you'd like a worm over a donut, but okay.

_And I mean that in the most friendship-wise way possible.  
_  
But maybe when Miley smiled at me, rolled her eyes at my 'donuttyness', and went, "But of course, Oliver," and went back to her Anatomy-studying, I did feel kind of sick to my stomach for some reason. Kind of like the chili from lunch went bad or something.

Which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest -- school lunches are designed to be complained about. If my chili today had grown legs and walked off my tray, I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised. I'd just feel a little like vomiting everywhere knowing I almost actually put the LIVE specimen in my mouth. Because I mean, seriously. What if it like crawled back up my eso… eso…

Crap. As if I'm not a big enough donut already.

"Miley, what is that tubule thing that goes down your throat to transport food to your stomach?"

A questioning, confused blink of her eyes. "Esofagus, Oliver."

"_FAG?! I'M NOT GAY!! I HATE BANANAS!"_

She stared at me for about three seconds before bursting up laughing. She has been for about two minutes now. Oh, sick feeling in my stomach, go away. Up my eso**fag**us.

"NOO," she finally manages to say through her insane, madwoman giggling. "E-S-O-**P**-**H**-A-G-U-S."

In short, I want to kill myself.

Well, this has been a long entry. My hand hurts. And the bell is going to ring for next hour any minute. And Miley is somehow making me sick, like the chili from earlier is creeping up my eso**phag**us. And the monkeys still aren't quiet, probably because no one has even thought of throwing bananas at them besides me, which is an ingenious idea, really, but I don't have a banana anywhere handy (well, besides… okay, gross), so whatever. And I keep banging my head against the table waiting for my humiliation with Miley to end. And --

Holy. Crap.

I just snapped my pencil in two. I'm now writing with a pen, but…

You'll _never believe_ who just came waltzing into the cafeteria.

…So I guess I'll tell you.

The obnoxious ugly, wormy Jerk Rat himself.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Of course, about seven freshman girls accompanied him, all currently drooling over his existence.

He smiled over here at Miley. Or me, I guess, but Jerk Rat doesn't swing that way even though I still think he's a homosexual worm, so Miley makes more sense.

He screams across the cafeteria, _"MILEY!!!!"_

Miley screams, _"JAAAAKEE!?!?!?!?"_

I scream, **"WORM??!"**

They didn't even notice my weird outburst -- that's how sickenly absorbed they are in each other's eyes. He's now sliding over to us like the hideous worm-rat he is.

I am not even kidding when I say this -- _CALL THE EXTERMINATOR._

-----

Yep. Jake's back. I know, I know, very cliché, but you will get over it if you love me. Well, this story really. But yes, review me or, or, or else I will let this story collect dust! -le gasp- I know, horrifying, right? SO REVIEW! Rar. Haha.


	4. Ginger

Hey, guys, chapter four here. I don't have much to say, except thank you for all the positive reviews I have received so far. I only continue this for my reviewers, so never stop reviewing or I will discontinue. Haha, just kidding. Or am I:O

_Disclaimer_: I don't own Hannah Montana. I do, however, own a bag of cooler ranch doritoes, which I happily much on while I write this little fanfic. Whoo, yeahhh boyy.

_NOTE_: In all honesty, I don't think this is a very funny chapter unless you are easily amused. I tried, though. -runs away to escape the throwings of random rotten vegetables-

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER FOUR: GINGER

Wednesday, December 19th, 4:57 p.m., Rico's.

Dear Stupid,

I would just like to inform you that --

**I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE AGGRAVATED IN MY ENTIRE ALMOST-SEVENTEEN-YEARS OF LIFE.**

I shouldn't be writing here at Rico's, I know. There are way too many witnesses around to view what I am about to write in this stupid notebook. Like Jackson, who has done nothing but look at me funny since I started writing in this on his counter. He was like, "Yo, _Ginger_, what are you doin'?"

I, of course, replied, "DON'T CALL ME GINGER, JACKSON." Because I don't need to be reminded right now that Miley, Lilly, and him have all seen me dancing on the beach as the Naked Gingerbread Man with my wonderful six-year-old banana. I also added, "None of your business either."

But, Jackson just rolled his eyes and went, "Mk, Ginger," and went back to serving other customers like he's paid to do in the first place.

Ugh. I just need to seriously vent before I freak out on Dr. Harms tonight so she doesn't send me away to the Happy Hotel. Because here is an example of how I feel inside:

**AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
I HAAAAAAAAAAAAATE MY LIFE.  
**  
There.

And you know what? That does not help me in the _slightest_ at the moment. I don't even feel better at all. In fact, disgusted because I know why I hate my life so much right now. Not only has the entire world almost saw my banana, but --

JERK RAT HAS SHOWN HIS UGLY RAT, UGLY, STUPID, YUCKY, FART-FACE IN MALIBU AGAIN.

(And I am being _too _nice there, really. I mean, try to picture me saying "fart face", Stupid. Not like you could. You're an inanimate object who also doesn't have eyes. I feel bad for you. I mean, I'm gorgeous; you're totally missing out on this Smoken Oken-ness. Oh, er, yes, back to topic of being PISSED OFF -- I'm trying to give up cussing because I can be a sailor mouth.)

SO JERK RAT IS BACK AND I'M GOING TO BE FORCED TO LOOK AT THE BACK OF HIS UGLY RAT-HEAD EVERY SINGLE DAY OF THE REST OF MY JUNIOR YEAR DURING ALGEBRA II.

AND I DIDN'T THINK I COULD HATE MATH MORE.

IT'S GOING TO BE LIKE U.S. HISTORY WHERE I PRETEND I HAVE SUPERNATURAL POWERS TO VAPORIZE BECCA'S HEAD OFF.

Except I will picture myself killing him in a more slow, painful way.

No one should be surprised the day that mouse, no, wait, that's too nice, RAT-traps _mysteriously_ appear on his assigned seat's chair.

I seriously don't understand myself sometimes, but I hate him more than I remember. I don't even get why. He's just standing there… existing… and yet, I view him standing there existing ugly-ly. Yes, ugly-ly. He's an ugly, egomaniac, hair-flipper-backer, jerk who is ugly-ly taking over Malibu all over again, and has his hands ugly-ly all over one of my best friends, who I'm surprised is not in the room right now catering to his every ugly-ly whim. Yuck.

I'm guessing the reason I hate him was because of earlier when he first came up to Miley and I. Here's the conversation. I'd drag it out further in detail, but my writing is starting to shake I'm so pissed off. STUPID HOMOSEXUAL WORM-RAT!!!!! AHH!

Just picture this.

Jake opened his slimy arms, beckoning for Miley to leap into their sliminess. "Miley, I've missed you so much!" You can also insert other mushy sick-make-Oliver-vomit-up-his-esophagus things here.

Miley jumped into the rat's slimy arms and squeezed him. Unfortunately, not tight enough to crush every bone in his body. Mucho sadness. "OMG, I'VE TOTALLY MISSED YOU, TOO, JAKE!!!!!! WHY ARE YOU HERE?! AND WHEN DID YOU GET HERE?!" That isn't entirely correct, but you know, it's hard to remember when the volume of her voice broke my eardrums, and I think I'm still in the recovering stage of this?

Then there was me in this little scene. Sitting there awkwardly, and gripping the pen in my hand tightly enough to spray the ink out of it in someone's eye, preferably Jerk Rat's, but I don't have THAT great of luck. (Sadly enough.)

Jake just sucks up all the oxygen around him with this gross, noisy inhale of breath, most likely to try and puff out that puny chest of his. "Well, I got tired of being a movie, T.V. (followed by about 6088 adjectives about how 'great' he is, but I won't bore you, Stupid, like he did me. Unlike _Miley_, who is hanging on the edge of his every word. Yuck.) star, and I quit the Zombie Slayer business so I can be a full-time teenaged boy!" He said this like it was a good thing. It's not. Oh, and he still had his filthy zombie-slaying arms around Miley. Worms aren't supposed to hug Miley, just a note. Why can't the donut be hugging Miley? Although, in a more.. Friendship way.

Well. I don't know. I guess in a non-friendship way works, too. Don't freak out, I don't like Miley like that, but if I was hugging Miley in a non-friendship way, Jake would most likely explode into tiny material pieces because he'd be so pissed off. And then, Miley and I would happily gather up these tiny material pieces and dispose of them in the garbage, where Jake belongs in the first place.

Anyway. Back to my story.

I went to Jake, "I'm getting déjà vu." I don't think I meant to say it out loud. Or so harshly. Well, okay, I guess I can tell the truth to you, Stupid… I did. Tehehehehe.

Then Jake, like he just noticed I'm there, let go of Miley.

Thank God, I could've bit his rat tail off if he held her any longer. She's my best friend, not yours, jerk. Has she seen YOUR banana?! Oh, that's right, NO!!!!!!!!! Well, I sure hope not, anyways.

Er, gross.

He went, with a very large smile, "Oliver! Hey, how are you doing, bud?"

I was wincing at the 'bud'. We are so not friends. Therefore, we are not 'buds' either.

I went, snottily-accidentally-on-purpose, "I **WAS** okay."

Miley decided to jump in on my sudden attitude, much to my dismay. "Oh, just ignore him, Jake, he's just being a donut because now half the girls in the school will stop following him and start following you again. BUT I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU!!!!"

Um, _whatever_ is what I say to that.

I sat there, blinking angrily as Miley proceeded to hug the Jerk Rat repeatedly and ignore me, her alleged best friend. I might be a donut, but I'm not just saying this -- I'd rather be hugging a donut over a slimy worm-rat.

And that was about it because the bell rang. And the two just left me there. I was squeezing a pen until it flew out of my hand and onto the floor. So I bent down to pick it up, and what should happen? Oh, take a FREAKING GUESS.

It's not like my life could be worse or anything, right?

Oh, no. Poor, luck-deprived Oliver Oken here manages to rip his pants open.

Revealing his very **MANLY** Christmas reindeer boxers.

Rudolph _is_ manly. Okay. Shut up.

Well, yeah, things like this happen to me everyday. Why?

'CAUSE GOD OBVIOUSLY HATES ME. HE MAKES ME WALK DOWN THE HALLWAY GRABBING MY BUTT BECAUSE MY PANTS ARE RIPPED OPEN AND PEOPLE ARE MAKING GAY COMMENTS LIKE, "OH, OLIVER, DID YOU AND THE QUARTERBACK FINALLY HOOK UP???", AND THEN I HAD TO WALK AROUND SCHOOL LIKE THAT THE REST OF THE DAY, AND THEN TO MAKE MATTERS WORSE, I WALK INTO ALGEBRA II AND THE WORM-RAT LOSER IS IN CLASS! JUST FREAKING BEAUTIFUL!!!!

Okay, sorry. Venting.

Anyways, Jerk Rat turns around in his chair, smiling. Like, really. What is there to smile about? Give me a boxer's glove. I have a feeling I'm going to learn to hate this smile, so I want to get rid of it as soon as possible.

He goes, out of the clear blue, or, I should say RED because that's all I saw, "Hey, Oken! Sweet that you're in my math class. You on the basketball team?"

I twitched. "No."

"Ah, well, I was just wondering because I'm joining. Miley is gonna be at all the games, and I've gotta make sure I still have her heart completely, so I'm gonna impress her with all my might, you know what I'm saying?"

I yelled, "OH MY GOD, NO ONE SERIOUSLY CARES, JAKE. GO BACK TO WHATEVER RAT HOLE YOU CRAWLED OUT OF BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS YOU HERE."

Okay, so I actually said, "Yeah, sure."

He smiled. Again. Dear Lord, I will never not want to smack it off his face.

"You think she still likes me?"

I sat down in my seat. "No." And you know, I have no idea why that came out of my mouth, but it did.

He looked pissed. I liked this look; he needs to be unhappy all the time.

So I went on, in my most I-Hate-You-So-I'm-Gonna-Be-Snobbishly-Annoying voice, "She's moved on to better things."

"Oh yeah?" He scoffed. I smiled. He did not smile back, however, which is A-O.K. with me. "Who's better than me?"

And I stupidly went, "Me."

Which doesn't even make sense?

But he laughed.

Hysterically. Loudly. Like I was the funniest kid he'd ever met. But I didn't even get the joke here. Rereading this conversation, there is NOTHING funny about what I said. I for some reason told Jake that Miley moved on… to me? I don't know?

I mean, I guess it is kind of funny. Miley and me? Oh, right, Oliver, I'm sure.

"You're just as funny as ever, Oken."

Then he turned back around and I fumed. So bad I picked up my other pencil, pretended to jam it into his skull multiple times, put it back down, then picked it back up and did it all over again.

And the rest of the day was retarded.

Because Miley would NOT shut up about Jake. I really don't know how Lilly is managing to even act so interested in what Miley is saying, but if I hear the word Jake one more time, I'm sure to hurl all over the place or at least yank out Miley's voice box and permanently remove the word from her vocabulary.

I went home after school real quick to change pants My mom died laughing just about, and so did my brother. Yeah, thanks for "cheering me up", fam.

I am so glad Christmas break starts tomorrow after school. This way people from school will use this break to forget about the pants incident. I hope.

Right now, Miley-and-Jake are eating ice cream with each other, while I sit here at Rico's and fume some more at the sight of her being so happy with him.

I say Miley-and-Jake because in the last ten minutes, they have apparently become a single person since both Lilly and Jackson cannot say one of their names without the other's.

Lilly: Aw. Miley-and-Jake look so happy.

Jackson: Oh, wow. Miley-and-Jake are sharing ice cream. Gross.

I actually agree with Jackson. This sight was pissing me off to the eleventh degree, and you KNOW by now, Stupid, this means anything but happy.

I'm going to stop writing because I'm sure I'm going to stab a hole through this notebook if I hear any more unnecessary giggling from Miley-and-Jake.

GOOOOOODBYE.

**Wednesday, December 19****th****, 7:39 p.m., living room.**

Dear Stupid,

Dr. Harms put an incredibly STUPID thought in my head tonight. Apparently, I cannot think for myself because whatever she says I think, it's what I actually think. But she is ever-so-wrong.

She announced to me tonight that I have more than platonic feelings for Miley.

And you and I both know, this is entirely not true. Miley is one of my best friends, not girlfriend material. Well, I mean, not that'd she be a bad girlfriend, but… it'd never happen.

…And I don't know why I just felt this huge lump in my throat when I wrote that. My esophagus is probably just malfunctioning. Gross. I better not be sick. I hate being sick to the eleventh degree.

WHAT IS MY DEAL WITH HATING THINGS TO THE ELEVENTH DEGREE RECENTLY????

Er, anyway, I told Dr. Harms that I would never think such… inappropriate thoughts about someone as close to me as Miley.

She went, "Well, re-reading this last entry, I would say, you're _at least _jealous of the attention Jake is receiving from Miley. So I'm guessing you will realize these feelings for her, even if you call yourself a," she looked down at my notebook like she couldn't remember what I had wrote, then back up into my eyes, "_donut_."

"Oh, and what's this banana incident you keep bringing up, if I may ask?"

As if my face wasn't already red from the frustration of denying anything girlfriend/boyfriend-ish with Miley.

"It's nothing."

She raised her eyebrow at me. "Well, okay, I guess, if you don't want to talk about that, Ginger."

And then I proceeded to scream at her that if she ever tells anyone about that video I would personally figure out where she lives, and 106 large cheese and anchovies pizzas will mysteriously appear at her front door, and that she will happily pay for them.

Oh, and to not call me Ginger.

But really, our whole conversation tonight revolved around this Miley thing. I don't even know what to think about it. Because I keep thinking, "Well, if Miley was my girlfriend, would I be okay with it????"

And, this sounds bad, but I think I'd be more than okay with it.

I think I'd be really happy.

But maybe that's just because I want to piss off Jerk Rat.

Oh, yeah, Dr. Harms thinks I'm hysterical with all the things I say about Jake. Right down to what I think his parents should've named him (Jerk Rat, obviously).

Well, I gotta stop writing. Lilly's calling me.

**Like two minutes later.**

AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I AM MOST SERIOUSLY DISGUSTED RIGHT NOW. I WANT TO PUKE.

FOR TWO REASONS.

THAT I AM ACTUALLY USING THIS JOURNAL ON A REGULAR BASIS.

AND!!!!!!!!!!!

LILLY CALLED TO INFORM ME THAT SHE IS LONELY AT THE MOMENTO AT THE BEACH BECAUSE MILEY-AND-JAKE ARE "TOO BUSY STICKING TONGUES DOWN EACH OTHER'S THROATS TO PAY ANY ATTENTION TO THE FACT THAT SHE IS ALIVE AND BREATHING".

THAT RAT MAN IS ACTUALLY STICKING HIS TONGUE DOWN _MY_ MILEY'S THROAT? EXCUUUUUSE ME?!?!

UM, CROSS OUT THAT "MY".

BUT LILLY WANTS ME TO GO DOWN THERE TO KEEP HER COMPANY.

YEAH.

OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!

WHY AM I WRITING IN ALL CAPS?

Okay, this is better. And less hand-cramp-worthy.

But really. Is Lilly on something? What makes her think I would enjoy going to the beach to see this display of Pukesville.

But you know what's sad?

I actually agreed to go down there.

I don't get myself. At all.

Miley and Lilly have been right all along. I _am_ a complete and total donut.

----

Oh, poor Ollie-kins. I may torture him like this, but I love him ever-so-dearly.

And you guys should probably review and make me happy, or I may go all Jiley or something, yuck-o (no offense to Jiley fans, but I can't seem to like it, and I try to, honestly).

So, reviews? Prettttty please?


	5. Basketballs

Woo, chapter five. I don't like it much, but I thought it was about time to update. This might be my least favorite chapter I've written so far, haha, so just a heads-up! I got sick of editing it, and… I don't know. I just hope you guys like it enough to review. Reviews are the only reason I keep writing, so, keep them up!

_Disclaimer_: I still don't own Hannah Montana. Unfortunately.

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER FIVE: BASKETBALLS

* * *

Dear Stupid,

As you may know, you should never judge a book by its cover. 

Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, you _can_ judge a book by its cover, Stupid. In fact, be well entitled to do this every time you look at Jake Ryan's ugly rat head.

Because, if you didn't know this already, he is entirely horrible on the outside as he is on the inside. Who knows what's actually _inside_ his inside actually, now that I think about it. I'm guessing probably rotten apples and garbage and dirt. You know, since most rats eat rotten apples and garbage. And I'm pretty sure worms eat dirt or whatever.

And we all know that Jake Ryan a dirty worm-rat.

I'm serious. One day Jake Ryan will be in the emergency room (yes, I can only wish), and a doctor will have to cut open his chest for some unexplained reason, and some nurse will be like, "We have an emergency, Dr. House! This boy's heart is missing, and has been replaced with… an empty Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup can!"

Because… there is no way Jerk Rat can have a heart.

And Dr. House will go all smart and stuff, "Well, he obviously has testicular cancer because the aortas and ventricles and blood vessels are discharging with the urinal flow into his bladder, which in turn doesn't cooperate with the Gracilis muscle or the digestion flow of the esophagus to the stomach."

… Or whatever he says because half of the time, probably like yours when you watch the show, my brain can't even handle what's going on in the episode. I swear, _House_ is just created by opening a textbook, such as Miley's _Anatomy & Physiology_ one, and they take random big words like Gracilis and stick them into random blanks in the script. Seriously. Think about it next time.

But yeah, tonight at the beach?

I've gotten myself into a huge mess. Like, no joke.

I arrived at the beach. I had been walking extra-slowly onto the sand, with my hands deep in my pockets, breathing deeply… breathe in and out… breathe in and out… You see, I wasn't going to stand to watch Miley-and-Jake stick tongues down each other's throats, so I had to mentally prepare for this scene. Otherwise, I would probably pounce upon Jake and rip his mouth off of Miley's.

Anyways, I was at the beach for like two minutes. No one was there, and I was pretty mad and stuff. But just as I was about to leave, Lilly came bouncing up to me like a kangaroo on meds. And she was laughing. However, I was not in the least bit amused. For one, I had felt ditched. And two, the image that had been in my head at the time (think Miley-and-Jake related) was not disappearing, and it was definitely not funny. Lilly didn't seem to notice how mad I was 'cause she was like, "Oliver! You're _finally_ here! And oh, you _just_ missed it, it was so _funny_--"

"What happened?" I interrupted kind of coldly. She apparently hadn't noticed this tone of my voice because she just looked back up at me, giggling more. Very irritating.

"The life guard came over to Miley-and-Jake," there she went with the whole Miley being one person with Jake deal again that I personally cannot stand, "and started yelling at them for…" Lilly seemed to be at loss for words, but I crossed my arms, and she then knew I knew what she was talking about and went on. "…what they were doing in public because people around them were complaining. One of them being me, but you know. Then, Miley-and-Jake got all tomato red, and now they are over at the basketball courts where Jake is practicing his shots so he can prove that he can join the basketball team in the middle of the season."

I will admit that it came _very_ lovely to me that Miley-and-Jake were no longer being all gross, let's-make-Oliver-throw-up, Pukesville P.D.A. And that the news Lilly brought to my ears really made me smile a whole lot.

However, I had no clue what I was about to get myself into the second Lilly and I approached the basketball courts that were down a little further on the beach.

Miley saw us immediately. It was pleasant to me that she had been sitting on a bench ALONE without Jerk Rat's arm around her. She had been kicking her legs out in front of her like a three-year-old, smiling pathetically at Jake's every move as he dribbled the basketball up and down the court. But then when Lilly and I came into her view, she stood up very quickly. Kind of like she had been doing something we weren't supposed to see. Which doesn't make a whole lot of sense when just a few minutes ago she had been eating Jake's gross mouth off in front of like, twenty people.

I walked over to her anyways, completely ignoring Jake's sudden yell of, "OKEN! COME SHOOT SOME HOOPS WITH ME, MAN!"

Because really, I've lost enough brain cells in my life.

So, I said all coolly to Miley, "Hey."

She said, smiling, "Hey, Oliver! Aren't you going to answer Jake?"

I winced thinking, _Of course. You had to throw his name somewhere in your speech, didn't you, Miley?_

But that wasn't going to come out of my mouth because I didn't want to be mean. So I bared a fake grin, turned to Jake at Miley's request, and found myself saying, "Suuuuuuuure… _Ryan_."

If he was going to call me Oken, then Ryan was his name-o.

So without warning, the jerk decided to pass me a basketball. I didn't know this, though, so what happens? Oh yeah, just my luck --

It went **BAM!**

_On my face._

Miley and Lilly went into hysterics because apparently, this was actually quite funny to them. Oh, yes, hilarious, girls, let me tell you. Great best friends I have, I know. The never-ending headache I still have from the incident makes me laugh ohhhh so hard, let me tell you.

HEY LILLY - ROTFLMAO!!!!!!

Not.

But anyways, the giggling idiots ran off to the bathroom, most likely because they were peeing their pants, or skirt in Miley's case, of laughter, so it left me and Jerk Rat.

He wasn't laughing at me, however. He just went, "Whoa, sorry, bud, pay attention next time!"

Yes. You're right. I wanted to take that damn, I mean,_ dang_ basketball and shove it down his throat and choke him to death.

But I rubbed it off so I wouldn't look like a cry-baby to the egomaniac. He doesn't need anything else to be better than me at. I said, "It's cool. Didn't hurt anyways."

So I'm a liar. I am a guy after all. It's what we do.

I grabbed the basketball back into my hands with a grumble, and slowly dribbled it up to the free-throw line. I wanted to show the worm-rat that he wasn't God's gift to mankind, and that I, too, had capable athletic ability.

I leaned upwards and shot.

_Swoosh._

I smirked. Jerk Rat didn't look fazed, though, much to my disappointment. He was just like, "Good shot, Oken. Why aren't you on the basketball team?"

I like _hate_ my last name now.

I shrugged, taking the ball back into my hands, beginning to dribble it again. "It's lame."

"Well, I'm planning to join the team tomorrow after school. We get out early, you know, so I'm gonna show up at the basketball practice and wow the dudes already on the team, and hopefully take a starter's position," he replied like the cocky animal he is as I took aim for my next shot.

"I'm going to impress the girlfriend with all that I got -- Miley said she's always been attracted to pro-athletes."

For some reason, at this statement, my aim was affected horribly. I fumbled the ball awkwardly in my hands right as I shot, and the ball ascended into the air, bouncing off the rim of the basket, and _what do you know_, Stupid?

I get hit on the head a second time.

Ouch.

I wished that God would be kind and have the basketball hit JAKE for once, but oh, no. Jerk Rat is just too dang perfect for any basketball to be hitting his perfect face with his perfect smile and perfect everything.

Jerk Rat chuckled a perfect chuckle. Oh yes, now you laugh, you pathetic excuse of a human being, that just happens to be perfect.

However, I shook it off instantly. What Jerk Rat had just said was repeating in my mind all over again for some reason.

I don't get why, but this shocked me. Like, seriously, why? I mean, they were obviously making out and whatever, which only irritated me a little. Okay, a lot, but still. She was actually DATING HIM??? Miley was Jerk Rat's GIRLFRIEND?!?

And now he gets the "perfect girl" -- Hannah Montana. I have some straightening out to do with God, that's for sure.

But was this really true? I had no idea. But I found myself saying in an extremely cold voice (even colder than the one I used on Lilly earlier), "Oh, so you snagged her already, eh, Ryan?"

It didn't seem to affect him much. He just smiled that dumb smile I hate. "Yep. And I couldn't be happier."

_I'd be happier if you just fell off the face of the planet, _I remember thinking.

But all of sudden, Jake's statement replayed itself in my mind.

_"…Miley said she's always been attracted to pro-athletes."_

I never know why I do this, but I have a tendency to pull things out of my butt. No, not literally, Stupid, you're disgusting.

But what I said to Jake the next second was, "You know, I might try out for the basketball team after all."

Like… I wanted to attract Miley. In a not so-best-friend way. Ew.

Jerk Rat looked awfully confused at this. For once, I don't blame him. I was just as confused at what had come out of my mouth as well.

"I thought you said that basketball was lame?" He said, dumbfounded.

This pissed me off. I don't know why. I guess it's just the fact that _he_ was the one who said it.

"I changed my mind," I continued. "After all, I _am_ pretty good. Perhaps even star material… Might as well put my amazing skills to use."

I love how I am not able to stop pulling things right out of my butt once I start. Well, not really.

Because this was not something to pull out of my anus, believe me. I was _nothing_ compared to some of the players already on the team. They would laugh at me tomorrow for hours. Broken Oken would be back. I was just a master at free throws, **the end**. I can not run with a ball and dribble at the same time, I'm not that coordinated!

And yet, I just sat here and told Jake how great I am. I felt like freaking Jake Ryan himself the way I had just said that! I even said the words STAR and MATERIAL.

Together.

_Yeah, right, Oliver! I'd be benched every game!!!! Or worse, WATERBOY!!_

And then I got to thinking that Miley would be sitting there in the crowds, watching Jerk Rat score point after point. Then she'd look at me, sitting on the bench (or handing out water bottles), and laugh. Laugh, laugh, laugh. Because that is what you do when you see your dumb best friend on the bench when he could be actually _on the court _or handing out water bottles to the real athletes.

I mean, she's Hannah Montana. She would be very unimpressed with my bench warming skills.

She'd look at whoever would be sitting next to her (I'd say Lilly, but she's a cheerleader, you see) and say in a very lame voice, _"What a donut."_

But I… don't want her to be saying that. I want to be dribbling down the court, ala Michael Jordan, leap into the gym's sky, and smash down the basketball into the basket, hanging onto the rim like a superstar. Then Miley would be very proud, and say to her friend in a very googly-eyed way, drooling at the mouth, "What a DONUT!"

Because, Stupid, I've come to realize something.

When Miley and Lilly came walking back into the court, when I saw Miley, something wasn't quite the same about her anymore.

It was like I was in a very bad soap opera because when she walked up to the bench she had been previously sitting on, her hair was all blowy in the wind and she was walking with a pleasant, warm smile, and she did this all in slow motion.

I remember looking around seeing if anyone had grabbed a remote control to torture me with, but there was no one.

I didn't know what to think. So I shrugged this weird feeling in the pit of my stomach off since I just guessed it had to do with my nerves of actually trying out for the team tomorrow.

But anyways, back to my story --

My least favorite person's, Jake's, voice brought me back to earth.

"OKEN, HEADS UP!"

And, as you may guess, Stupid, for a grand total of three times tonight, I was hit in the head with a basketball.

And I'm way too tired to even write anymore because nothing too exciting happened after that. Well, unless you count everyone dying of laughter all over again at my discomfort exciting. Oh, and Jerk Rat told me that it's cool I'm going out for the basketball team. Which wasn't exactly the response I hoped for. I thought he might get all mad at me.

And on the walk home, I got to witness Miley-and-Jake googly-eye and kiss each other good-bye. I mean, I very well could have gotten through life without seeing this, but by now, Stupid, we know that God hates me, so whatever.

Oh, I guess one other _kind of _exciting thing happened.

When we got to Lilly's house, Lilly skipped inside. I turned back around at the same time that Miley turned to me. She was looking at me with this weird smile, and I sort of felt like I wanted to _melt_ if that even remotely helps you to picture what I was feeling.

She was like, "Are you really going to try to join the basketball team tomorrow, Oliver?"

And the thrill in her voice seemed to confirm my decision since I went, "Yep."

Miley seemed to be enthralled. So enthralled, she leapt onto me and closed her arms around me in this suffocating hug. Not that I minded, I guess. Because, um, _wow_. I got this retarded, goofy smile on my face and everything! Like I wanted to stay there forever, as cheesy as that sounds. But Miley pulled away quickly.

I remember frowning at this. I felt sad.

She didn't acknowledge the frown. Or if she did, she just kept smiling anyways. Smiley Miley, that's her all right. And unlike Jerk Rat's, I didn't want to tear off her lips to get rid of the smile. I actually _want_ her to keep smiling at me like she did then.

"I'll be at every game to cheer you on if you make it!"

I smiled back at her, my tummy getting all weird feeling again, and then we said our goodbyes.

I'm going to admit this only to you, Stupid, but I walked the rest of the way home rather arrogantly, I must say. My chest was puffed out and my nose was turned very highly up into the air.

All stupidly because I got a hug from Miley Stewart, my best friend. Like I don't ever get one from her, when I do mostly everyday.

And even though Jerk Rat may have gotten to kiss her tonight, I definitely felt luckier than him.

So, I've come to a horrible conclusion, Stupid. It makes me want to hit my head against something over and over again, but…

I think I have more-than-friendly feelings for my best friend. Who also happens to HAVE A BOYFRIEND.

I can't believe this. Icky ick. I don't like this at all! Because this means Dr. Harms was right! And I can't let her know this at all. She can't read this entry, Stupid, because she will shove it in my face repeatedly and then I will punch her lights out, and be sent to another psychiatrist, and I'll never be free of this madness!

But I'm guessing I will wake up tomorrow morning and this funny feeling will be all gone, and I'll read this entry and be like, "Oh, Oken, you are just way too funny for your own good!" Except, I won't use Oken because that's what Jerk Rat calls me. Yuck.

Well, goodnight, Stupid.

I'd say for you to wish me luck on that basketball thing tomorrow, but you're an inanimate object. But if you do happen to come to life, do wish me luck. I'm afraid I need it quite badly.

But don't tell that to anyone either. I can't let Jerk Rat know that I actually suck at basketball as a whole.

Er, goodnight. I feel insane talking to a diary.

**JOURNAL!!!**

GOOD FLIPPING NIGHT ALREADY!

**10:29 p.m., same place, same date.**

SHIT!!!

(Shut up, I think I have a right to cuss here.)

**What did I GET MYSELF INTO?!?!**

----

Aw, Ollie's gonna try to be a basketball star! And I have so many ideas yet for this story, eek, I can't wait until I get to unleash some more, muahaha.

Please review, and thanks for reading so far and making me feel somewhat accomplished. Hehe.


	6. Frosted Flakes

_Oh my gosh_, I'm sooo sorry this took so long, I've just been on two separate week long vacations (Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri and New York), and they were extreeemely fun, and have been really busy with stuff… So I'm **terribly **sorry.

Anyways, I kind of rushed this one so you guys wouldn't have to wait any longer. And when I rush, I tend to make a zillion mistakes and the humor is worse than usual, but I tried. I hope you enjoy it anyways, you guys are the best. hehe.

**AHH!** The hour long episode with Jake was so great! Oliver and Jackson's cheese jerky rap made me "ROTFLMAO". Well, okay, I only chuckled because Oliver looked like a crazy person, hahahaha. And he seemed awfully jealous of Jake, no? Bwahaha.

Oh, by the way… My birthday is this Wednesday, June 27th! Yay! I'm excited. )

_Disclaimer_: Sadly, when I went on those two vacations, I wasn't able to take over HM in either of those places. So yeah. You get the picture.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER SIX: FROSTED FLAKES

Dear Stupid,

I think my mom wants me to kill myself.

I woke up this morning and ran downstairs hoping to grab some toast before school, but she was like, "All we have is cereal. Check the cabinet next to the sink."

I was pissed, but I checked it out anyways. All we had was Frosted Flakes.

I didn't really look at the box at first, just poured some out into a bowl even though I'm not the biggest fan of the cereal. I mean, Tony's cool and all, but I don't "like the things he does" and I definitely wouldn't want to be him "if I could". But yeah, as I popped the bright blue cap off of the milk, and dipped it towards my bowl, ready to rain it down onto the sugary bites that are Frosted Flakes, I glanced back up at the box.

And ended up spilling the milk everywhere all over the counter (which Mom happily scolded me for in her scary Man Voice) because GUESS what was on the box?

A picture of Jake Ryan's ugly rat, smiling face.

I swear… DEFINITELY not a start to a good day, or a good luck to my basketball try-out.

However, I happily took the box, which was half full, into my bare hands and ripped Jake's face in half. I had no clue I was this strong, but I guess when you're angry, you get real macho, muscular like. Not that I wasn't before… Um. Yeah.

Then Mom came in, screamed, and was like, "OMG! YOU'VE TURNED TO VIOLENCE!!! I'm calling Dr. Harms!!!!!!"

Yes, you're right. I was half tempted to grab a fork out of the silverware drawer and stab myself to death. But instead, I just darted outside and into my car and sped away, all the while looking for a decently high enough cliff to drive myself off of.

Gah, gotta stop writing before the teacher gets over here. I'm in Art II, I'm supposed to be drawing the "dinosaur bone" (more like from a cow) in front of me.

**8:43 a.m., same place.**

My "dinosaur bone" looks like a bow-tie.

I suck at Art. And life.

**Thursday, December 20****th****, 10:38 a.m., U.S. History**

Dear Stupid,

Becca Weller just spoke to me.

I was hastily writing down today's U.S. History notes that our teacher, Mr. Frai, was scribbling wildly in chicken scratch (well, chicken scratch is easier to read than this baloney) on the chalkboard in front of us. You know, it's kind of weird that Mr. Frai teaches U.S. History when he has a ridiculous French accent, with the curly French mustache and everything, and he's… well, overall just French. In a way, he resembles the Pringles dude. Except he comes with a body and ligaments.

Well, duh, Oliver. Like a freaking Pringles Guy Head just bounces around the classroom telling people about World War II. Right. I don't think so.

Of course, since I'm such a comical genius and all, I decided to give him the name French Frai. Hahahaha. Yes, you'd laugh, too, Stupid, if you were human. Everyone else did, and the name has stuck to him ever since I cracked the joke the first day of my Junior year. Maybe this is why I can never get a grade higher than a C+ on anything in the class.

I call him FF (pronounced Double F). Coincidentally, I get that grade on my tests a lot. Hm.

Anyways, French Frai was called out into the hallway by the secretary (I don't even know her name because I don't even care… We'll call her Mrs. Pots for now, since she resembles the shape of a teapot, short and stout, there is her handle, there is her spout, okay, I'm done)… I'm guessing they were out there to discuss which fancy French restaurant Double F was gonna blow his money on tonight with her. They were probably secret lovers or something. I can see it now.

FF: (in his ridiculous French accent) Oh, mademoiselle, let uz ezcape to Perr-ee (you know, that fancy way of pronouncing Paris that I obviously can't spell), and drink tall glazzez of champagne atop ze Eiffel Tower!

Mrs. Pots: Oh, but my French Frai, my love! This is all too sudden! I will still have to pack!

FF: Pack nuzzing, my zeet. (kisses her hand) I zill buy you all ze riches in ze world!

Well, maybe not that dramatic, but you know. And like FF actually has enough money to buy her "all ze riches in ze world". But I'm pretty sure I nailed the accent perfect there.

ANYWAYS, enough about gross-make-me-puke-teacher-love. After he left, Lilly began talking to me about how excited she was to be out of school after today for Christmas break. I was half paying attention because like you'd expect, my mind was way too focused on basketball after school… I kept asking myself what was I doing trying to join? And then, _other_ questions…

Such as -- why did I have to fall for one of my best friends so suddenly?

Well, I mean, crush on her, really. Because I'm definitely not in love with her. Actually, I don't know if I even "like her, like her". Just 'cause she's been on my mind since last night nonstop… that doesn't mean anything… right? I can get over this fast. PSHHH. I am Smoken Oken, I leave the ladies heartbroken.

But what if… I'm the one who ends up heartbroken?

Gahhhh, I've been thinking way too much. It's a new thing for me.

But yeah. There was Becca Weller being… Becca talking to her skinny little blonde-haired friend (I want to say her name's April or something, but we'll call her June because June's a better month than April. Oh, the joys of having a journal is that I can change everybody's names to my liking!) and laughing it up. I just glared at her.

Like she could sense my stare, she turned around in her chair, baring a snooty… wait… snooty? Wow. I obviously hang around Lilly and Miley (Oh, Miley… She's sooo beautiful, I could get lost in her eyes forever! Er, yes, I CAN THINK MY FRIENDS ARE BEAUTIFUL! And get lost in their eyes!!! Lilly's…. beautiful…. too… er… and I… no, I definitely don't get lost in her eyes. Um.) way more than I think. Er, but yes, Becca smiled 'snootily' at me and said, "Hey, Ollie-kins, I heard you're trying out for the basketball team today after school... Since when can you even dribble a ball, much less alone hold one without dropping it?"

'June' let out a wild laugh like she had rabies or something.

So you know what I did? I proceeded to pull out their hair, one handful at a time.

Okay, so that's just what I wanted to do.

But I did something just as equally satisfying. Well, not really. It actually kinda sucked, but the horrified expression on Becca's face was enough to make me at least kind of happy inside.

I said, "Oh, Becca, _darling! _I know you're just mad because now you won't have Seaview High's number one basketball star as a boyfriend. Too bad you let me go."

Even Lilly's mouth dropped open at this comment.

I had to admit, I am The Man sometimes.

I wish Miley could've seen it. She'd probably be so impressed that she'd push Jerk Rat off a cliff again and run into my arms and la de da, happily ever after.

… but I still DON'T have a crush on her. Yes.

But yeah, Becca was so shocked that for a second, she said nothing, just let her mouth hang open. But then, she regained her posture and was like, "Whatever. You won't even make it."

Lilly suddenly jumped in on this. "Oh, shut up, Weller! Don't you have a split end to attend to or something?"

And that shut Becca up for the rest of the period… in fact, the only time she did open her mouth again was when she had to reapply some lip gloss.

Girls!

**Thursday, December 20****th****, around 1:20 p.m., I can't see the clock because SOMEONE's head is in the way…, cafeteria.**

Dear Stupid,

We're in the cafeteria again. Miley is at my table.

I can't concentrate. At all. Thank the Lord Almighty that after this period, I only have one more, then CHRISTMAS BREAK.

Let me just give you a snippet of the conversation between Miley and I. Oh wait, I can't. BECAUSE THERE IS NONE!!!!!

Because did I fail to mention that JAKE RYAN is at the table here, too? Oh, I didn't, Stupid? Well, HE IS. UNFORTUNATELY!!! And he's got his little perfect arm around Miley while I fume with… a weird fuming emotion that's NOT jealousy…, and they are just laaaaughing it up. It's like HAHAHAHA ROTFLMAO every two seconds. I doubt whatever Jerk Rat is saying is truly that funny. To me, anything that comes out of his mouth makes me wanna choke him. I don't get how Miley can just sit there and listen to his nonsense.

I have way better things to say… Well, okay, not really. I mean, I was never a Zombie Slayer. I was never invited to go to big time movie premieres. I don't have my face plastered onto the front of a Frosted Flakes cereal box.

DANG YOU, TONY THE TIGER!

So Miley just gazes at him dreamily while I just mutter angrily to myself and write in this thing. I apologize for the random "I HATE JAKE" doodles in the margins, Stupid.

DONUTS ROCK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry, had to boost my self-confidence a little.

Oh, dear, am I just imagining things or did Miley just take a second out of her current "I love you more" contest with Jake to actually LOOK at me? And… she's opening her mouth AND MAYBE SHE'S FINALLY GOING TO ADMIT THAT SHE LIKES ME----

Never mind. Jerky Wormy Ratface just turned her head, which seemed to shock her.. And perhaps…annoy her, hopefully, judging by her expression? and kissed her full frontal on the lips.

UGH! And like I'd really want her to admit to liking me as more than a friend!! PSHHHT. I am emotionally confused. Maybe I do need this psychiatrist.

I hate my life, I do, I do.

**Thursday, December 20****th****, 2:10 p.m., Algebra II**

Dear Stupid,

Algebra II sucks more than ever with HIM sitting in front of me. So it's bad enough I cannot do math whatsoever, and that I have to sustain myself from using my pencil to jam it into Jerk Rat's perfectly shaped head, but apparently, Jake's a genius in Math. I know, it's shocking, but he seriously raises his hand to answer every question the teacher comes up with. AND HE'S ALWAYS RIGHT!

At the end of the period, though, as I was sitting there with my arms crossed, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf or something, Jake turned around. I was thinking, WHOA. DON'T TELL ME HE ACTUALLY ACKNOWLEDGED MY EXISTENCE AFTER GAZING IN THE MIRROR AT HIMSELF FOR THE LAST FIFTEEN MINUTES! Well, he really didn't do that, but I imagine if someone gave him a mirror, he would've.

So, anywho, Jerk Rat was like, "You ready for tonight, Oken?"

I said, "Are YOU ready for tonight, _Ryan_?"

He just looked really confused because he probably didn't expect me to act all hostile and grumpy and turned back around, thank the Lord because his face annoys me.

Ugh. Basketball… fifteen minutes, and I was about to end my social status completely. Broken Oken would be back. I was gonna be labeled it as soon as I would try to dribble the ball down the court…

**Thursday, December 20****th**

Whoa. Yeah, I'm in the locker room (in a stall so guys won't make fun of me for writing… which reminds me, why am I writing?!?! Oh, and Jerk Rat has already made a jerky comment like, "Dude, got the nervous shits or something?"), about a minute before I have to go out in the gym and embarrass myself, but I'd like to inform you, Stupid, that Lilly is going to die later tonight of murder by me, so tell her goodbye.

After Algebra II (and a large happy yell that school was finally out for Christmas Break), I saw Lilly in the hallway and she must've sensed my nervousness about the basketball deal, because she came up to me and was like, "Hey, Oliver, don't worry, you'll do fine."

I said, "No, I won't."

And then I found out she's read parts of my diary, er, JOURNAL! because what comes out of her mouth is, "If a jerky worm-rat can play basketball, then so can a donut."

So, I freaked out, and she ran away because I was about to kill her.

More later… it's time to end my life in front of the varsity basketball players.

Goodbye, cruel world.

* * *

Whoo! Oliver's about to try out… I wonder if he'll make it… well, actually, I already know, so why am I even wondering? That's your guys job.

Oh, and your other job -- REVIEWS! It's all that makes me keep up with this.

And I'm sorry if I'm bashing Jake way too much, it's not my thoughts, it's a jealous Oliver's. So don't hurt me! Instead, REVIEW. lol


	7. Dinosaurs

Sorry this took me so long. I had writer's block half-way throughout writing this for a couple of days. It just took me awhile for inspiration to get at me. So, without further ado, Chapter Seven.

Oh, and thank you for everyone who said Happy Birthday.. You guys made me smile. I'm the big One-Seven now! And who all saw Mitchel Musso's "Let's Go" performance? I wish I could've seen it live, but I saw it elsewhere on the internet. He wasn't actually all that bad. I give him major kudos. :D

_Disclaimer_: You already know.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER SEVEN: DINOSAURS

Dear Stupid,

Well. I am quite honestly not sure how to say anything at this moment in time. Besides that I'm hungry. Oh, focus, Oliver! You do not need to be thinking about Subway sandwiches with lettuce, tomatoes, mayo, cheese, and -- AHHH! Mental note, or actually, real note since this IS in a notebook… so Journal Note to Self: Get Subway tomorrow.

Today was horrible… right? Well, in the course of four hours, some… weird… things happened.

I've made a list. Check it out.

**Things Oliver Oken Has Realized in the Last Five or Six Hours**  
_by Oliver Oken… well, duh, this is my journal._

1. I like one of my best friends, Miley Stewart, as more than a friend. SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, STUPID. I don't need anymore teasing. I had enough tonight.

2. Lilly knows the above stated fact, and I am somehow trusting her with not saying anything about it to Miley. Or Jerk Rat. Or anyone that's alive and breathing. Actually, I don't even want her to tell her dead pet or something. This is so secretive to me, that it cannot even be spread to the Underworld. 'Cause if, like, that blue guy with the flames on his head from Hercules finds out, he'll make my life a living Hell. Hell. HAHAHAHA. Okay, Oliver, this is no time for lame jokes. Be serious.

3. Varsity basketball players, mainly the Big Ham (I'll explain later), now hate me. A lot. And I hate them. A lot.

So now that you get the gist, I'll start from where I left off, Stupid.

So I walked out of the locker room into the gym. I was sweating like a pig in a marathon. Most likely looked like one, too, I haven't really been working out lately since the whole psychiatrist thing has cut into my life. And don't ask me why a pig is running in a marathon in the first place, it could happen.

But yes, Jerk Rat and I had white tanks on (I annoyingly had to share the same attire as him, I guess, since God hates me and all), only to find the varsity basketball players, mind you, didn't even have THOSE on. My luck apparently cannot ever get any better because every single one of them was shirtless.

I felt so self conscious that I immediately hugged myself and snapped my head to see Jerk Rat's reaction, hoping maybe that he would turn chicken and bawk his way back into the locker room.

But Jake didn't think much of it. He just went, very cockily I might add, "I've had to do this countless times on national television," and just chucked his tank to the side. I cannot explain it any differently. I didn't even see him like lift it over his head. It was just CHUCKED to the side.

And there I was left with the decision of either to keep my tank on, or not. And all the guys were staring at me.

So I raised my tank over my head…

Only to find it… stuck.

Unfortunately, this is not a lame way of amusing you, Stupid. I literally could not get the darn thing over my head, and I was struggling, thrashing my arms as far as the tank would let me stretch, all the while, the guys all laughing. I could even hear Jerk Rat's menacing laugh, except in my mind it was like, "SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK, I WANT CHEESE!"

I mentally cursed to myself and finally got it off. I didn't know what else to do then but join in on the guy's laughing, and I was stupidly like, "Oh, ha ha ha! Those dang washing machines! Shrink 'em every time! Aha ha ha! Am I right? Am I right, gentlemen?" so they all stopped.

It is amazing to me that I cannot go through one simple school day without embarrassing myself the way I do.

Anyways, after that… weird remark of mine, Jerk Rat and I were arranged randomly into a line behind the other varsity players. It was the first part of our try-out -- lay-ups. I was twiddling, er, wait… it scares me that I even know this un-manly word… so how about I was messing around? Yes, going on -- messing around with my thumbs as I awaited my imminent doom. And suddenly, it was my turn.

I didn't know what to do quite honestly as Ricky Ham (Don't worry, Stupid, it's okay to laugh at his name, I did, too, and I forever hate him anyways, in fact I call him the Big Ham, because that's what he is, really, a big fat ham) passed me a basketball. I glanced up at the hoop, gulped, and approached it, all the while verrrrrrry slowly dribbling the ball. My lay-up technique didn't exactly work out too great… and I completely missed the shot.

The Big Ham and Jordan Spires, another one of the team's star players that I have not thought of a clever enough name for yet, died laughing.

I was blushing extremely hard, but I just brushed it off. Until I saw Jerk Rat mouse his way in a smooth motion up to the hoop, jumped slightly, and the ball whipped its way through the net. He turned to me, grinning like a freaking caveman. That doesn't even make sense, but for some reason, he looked like a caveman at that moment. And I wanted nothing more than for a Tyrannosaurus Rex to crash through the walls and eat him.

The Big Ham and Jordan congratulated him with a few high fives. I scoffed, still crossing my fingers for that T-Rex.

Jerk Rat said something to me like, "Tough first break. Don't worry, Oken. You'll be fine." You know, I remember thinking at that moment how much I really hated how he's taller than me. It disgusts me that I have to actually look up to the creep, when really I think of him as total garbage. Jerk Garbage should be his new name because he's not even good enough to be the rat that eats the garbage anymore. Gr.

So I watched Jerk Garbage walk over to the Big Ham, and they laughed. Most likely about something stupid, like what rotten apple Jake was gnawing on out of the cafeteria trash can. Well, actually, that's just what I would think is funny, but whatever.

Anyways, try-outs progressed, and I was failing at everything from defense, speed, offense… just basically everything. Jake was trying to make me feel better by all these pats on the back, which was DISGUSTING by the way with his greasy wormy hands. Oh, and it wasn't very enlightening to me that he was doing AMAZING at every little activity we did, so I'm not sure what magic the pats he was giving me was supposed to do. He was probably implanting some kind of zombie slayer spell into me that makes me suck at basketball, now that I think about it.

There was only one more thing left, and I basically just wanted to kill myself and save me a little more embarrassment, even though I had just about enough of it to last me the rest of the school year. Every senior and junior boy in here thought I was the biggest joke. No one really knew if I was being serious about trying out. I heard that Jordan guy even make a comment like, "He probably is only here to see us with our shirts off…" Which made everyone laugh and recall my ripped pants incident.

Even the asshole (sorry for the cursing, but this is really me being TOO nice actually) of the year, Jerk Garbage, laughed. Which was when I decided that he'll mysteriously die in his sleep tonight.

Anywho.

I was standing next to Jake when the Big Ham walked over to us. He had this point-blank serious look on his face, staring directly at Jerk Garbage. "Okay, Ryan," and then he hesitated, glanced at me almost sympathetically and continued, "…and Oken, this is the last thing you guys have to do. It's called the Three-Point Shot Slam. And I'm sure you can figure out what to do, but I'll tell you so Oken here doesn't get confused. (I, Oliver, hate him, by the way.) You both get two minutes each to shoot as many three point shots as possible. Ryan, you're up first."

Jake smiled his caveman smile. I just crossed my arms with a huff. I was too pissed too talk -- there were still no rat-eating dinosaurs breaking through the gym.

He got a total of seven three-pointers, which was pretty good, I guess. But this was when I got reaaaally pissed.

Because as Jerk Rat passed me the ball for my turn, he was like, "I've got this in the bag, Oken. Miley's going to love the news."

And for some reason, this stimulated a WHOLE new emotion within me. Like, my heart started pumping way too fast for my own good that I thought I was having a heart attack. I remember growling out, "Start the clock."

Somehow in that two minutes, I came up with twelve three-pointers. I somehow didn't miss a single shot.

When I shoved the ball back to the Big Ham, he looked dazed. So did every other guy. And then they did this weird huddle thing. But didn't include me… or Jake, who was currently obsessing over his reflection in his pocket mirror. Well, I'm joking, but he did seem to find combing through his sweaty blonde hair with his hand interesting.

Then the Big Ham thundered over to me. 'Thundered' because with each of his steps, it's like there's about to be a storm since you hear these giant cracks, which were actually being caused by his giant feet pummeling against the gym floor. I remember almost shitting myself.

"Well, Oken, me and the guys have been talking," he said really sternly, and his dark eyes were so narrowed that he looked almost Chinese. I tried not to laugh because I knew he was full of hatred toward me, and was trying so very hard to be nice. I wanted to kick him in the gonads, but then I thought with his size, they were probably gonads _of steel_, and my foot would be the thing in pain. But yes, continuing, the Big Ham was like, "And we've decided… we'll let you on the team because, as much as I hate admitting it, your three-point shot is incredible, and we could use it to break ties at the ends of games… So I'm going to talk to Coach Grif, and you and Ryan will be given a jersey in time… Any number requests? Most are taken."

I wanted to cry in happiness, kiss his feet (which as I said before, are very large, and even Big Foot would be jealous), and then bow down to him repeatedly, but then I figured, God already hates me enough, and I don't need to go sin and worship someone with the last name of Ham so that he gives me eternal bad luck, if he hasn't already.

I told him I wanted the double zero jersey, because it worked for my initials and all, and I actually got it! I almost did a happy dance, then realized I'm not a girl like Miley (man, she's great, by the way!!!!), so I refrained.

Jerk Garbage was pleased, something I wasn't so happy about. He went, "Thanks, Ricky, I'll take the number one."

Typical Jake, but number one was taken, so he got stuck with two. Which suits him better anyway, so that when he turns around, I'll be able to remind myself that he is not Number One at everything.

So after that, I proudly hopped into my car to drive home. I was extremely satisfied with myself. Nothing could possibly go wrong… until my cell phone rang. I cautiously picked it up, all the while watching the road because I'm a good driver like that, Stupid.

"Smoken' Oken, talk to me," I answered, because the ring tone signified it was Lilly so I could answer as cockily as I wanted to, and at the time, I had completely forgotten how badly she needed to die.

"And you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend," she greeted dryly. "But anyways, how miserably did you fail try-outs?"

It's cool how my best friends are so supportive of me. Ha.

"And _you_ wonder why I want new best friends," I said to her. "But they went well actually, thanks for asking. In fact, I'm the soon-to-be proud owner of jersey number double-zero. I believe a congratulations is in order."

The line was silent for a second until I heard laughter.

"Lilly, I'm serious."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"WELL, CONGRATS, OLIVER!!! I'm actually proud of you! Now I won't have to talk to the stuck-up cheerleaders on the bus to the away games, I can talk to you instead!"

"…great."

"Geesh, maybe I want a new best friend myself," she said irritably. "But seriously, on the bus we'll be able to talk about that monster of a crush you have on Miley! Won't that just be SWELL!"

I remember slamming on the breaks in the middle of the neighborhood I was currently in. It hit me then that Lilly had read you, Stupid. And I had no idea how much of you, so I became enraged.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!!!!" I screamed.

"Calm down, Oliver, I don't plan on being deaf until my nineties," she replied. I could even imagine her rolling her eyes as she said it. "But I read the entries. You really need to learn that if you are going to get up for a milli-second from Rico's and leave a diary that is full of entries about your jealousy of -- what was it again? Oh, yes -- 'worm-rats' and how he has Miley, and you don't, and you want her 'oh-so-badly', on the counter, you need to put a lock on that baby and swallow the key. Well, maybe not swallow it, because then the only way you'd get it back is… Okay, gross mental image… but yes, don't leave a journal on the counter at Rico's even for a second or people, like, say… Oh, I don't know… your best friend Lilly Truscott might take a peek or two."

I wasn't entirely sure how to react I was in such shock. So this is what I said -- "FOR STARTERS!!!! I am NOWHERE NEAR jealous of Jerk Garbage, and I don't CARE if he has Miley! It's not like Hannah Montana would want me anyways, she would prefer a famous person like herself, not some stupid donut of a boy SPACE friend. And MAYBE you should mind your own business, and be a best friend like you say you are, and NOT read my journal next time, and return it to me as soon as possible. Thirdly, I don't need you thinking about me on the crapper, that's wayyy too wrong!"

Like before, it was dead silent from my outburst for a second or two before Lilly went, "Are you aware you just referred to Jake as 'Jerk Garbage'?"

And then we proceeded to talk about Jake and my dislike towards him and how I wish I could extract Dino DNA and create a T-Rex that would eat him up in one bite, until I finally said this to Lilly, "You know… Maybe I do like Miley as more than a friend."

Lilly (This way is easier to write): Well, duh. All the signs are there. You stare at her a lot, when you deny the feelings, your voice shakes, AAAND your extreme random dislike of Jake Ryan when you didn't seem to have a problem with him before!

Me: I do NOT stare at her!

Lilly: Your voice is shaking. And yes, you do actually. I had no idea Miley eating chili was as mesmerizing as it was until I saw you the other day, like, gazing at her like a lovesick chicken or something.

Me: … Chicken?

Lilly: That's what you are.

Me: Shut up.

Lilly: Bawwwwwk bawk!

Me: LILLY, SHUT UP.

Lilly: Fine. And you know what? I'm actually going to let you tell Miley your feelings yourself.

Me: Why? Wouldn't you normally just dial Miley's number and--OH MY GOD, she doesn't already know, does she??

Lilly: Wow, Oliver, you like her more than I thought. And no. Because even if you make me out to be such a horrible best friend, I haven't told her. Or 'Jerk Garbage', either. I'd rather see you suffer. It's funnier.

Me: I'm doomed.

Lilly: That you are. I mean, he's Jake Ryan, a movie star. And you're Oliver Oken… a… boy.

Me: You sure know how to pep talk.

Lilly: I do what I can. But hey, Teen Court's on in like one minute, so I'm going to let you go, lover boy.

Me: Don't call me that ever again. And Lilly?

Lilly: What?

Me: The whole Miley thing? Yeah, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE keep it on the down-low.

Lilly: I will. AHHH! IT'S STARTING! BYEEE, LOVER BOY! AND GOOD LUCK WITH THE T-REX THING!

And she hung up, leaving me to drive my way home again.

And my hand hurts. So I'm going to stop writing. Since we don't have school tomorrow, I'll write in the morning about my psychiatrist appointment with Dr. Harms. She really is a psychopath. I didn't do anything but sit here in my room but think after that appointment either. Yes, THINK. Weird.

Well, goodnight, Stupid.

Only five more days until CHRISTMAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh, crap. Wait.

I don't have any of my Christmas shopping done.

I don't have any money.

I don't have any luck.

I'm going to die.

Again.

* * *

So I hope you guys liked this new installment. If you did, review. If you didn't… still review. Alrighty, thanks :D 


	8. Strawberries

Hey, guys, Chapter Eight! I'd appreciate if you read what I have to say before you read the chapter, because I need some input on something.

I'm thinking about adding some dashes of Lackson in here, but I'm not too sure. It won't take up a lot of the story, I don't think, since this is all in Oliver's point of view. So the focus wouldn't be changed. I just think it'd be a cute touch, really, but I'd like to know what you guys all think because I want to start adding subtle Lackson things now if I'm going to have the pairing here.

ALSO, I know people are getting irritated at the lack of REAL Moliver in this story, but as I stated earlier, I did not want the whole story to be focused around it alone… It makes the story a little more realistic and appealing. In my opinion, anyway. And there's a lot more funny stuff to write about when you aren't just stuck to one topic. But yeah, I'm sorry.. I'm hoping these next two chapters make up for my lack of Moliver, I've enjoyed writing them. Er, well, what I have of the next chapter so far anyways.

Oh, just ONE more note and I'll shut up, haha. I don't think in the show they have revealed Oliver's little brother's name. Or his age. All we know is he has one, right? Well, in this fic, Oliver has one, and I made up a name and stuff. So if a name HAS been released… oh well, it's my fanfic, get over it? Okay, that sounds mean, but you know, I have that kind of power here. Woo, power!

Okay, I'm done. Please read and enjoy.

_Disclaimer_: No. Just… no.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER EIGHT: STRAWBERRIES 

**  
Friday, December 21****st****, 12:12 p.m., kitchen.**

Dear Stupid,

As I left off, even though I was freaking out about money issues… I must tell you how insane Dr. Harms was last night. Even though, the more I think about it… she proves to be more right about everything in my life as usual. As much as I hate to admit it, of course.

Despite her obvious insanity, she doesn't know yet how right she is every time she brings up Miley and how I like her. I just deny it every time. I'm sure I will get her to drop the subject completely eventually and move on to more important things… Although, I'm not entirely sure what's more important than Miley right now. (Oh, geez, I've got it bad.) But you get what I mean.

But yeah. Dr. Harms was all, "Get a job, Oliver."

I was all, "No."

Then she was like, "You are rounding the age of seventeen, and I believe you can drive… and a job will open your eyes to a whole new world."

Excuse me, Dr. Harms, this is not Aladdin or some Disney show.

Of course, after pointing that out, she rolled her eyes and said, "You know what I meant. But perhaps maybe you will earn some extra cash… And teenagers love money. I was one once, believe it or not."

I don't believe it, _believe it or not_.

But yeah, she's crazy. And coached me on that for like an hour as I pointlessly argued. Because didn't you know, psychiatrists are _always_ right. There's no way they can be wrong, apparently. _Gag me_.

Except I do need money pretty badly… Gah.

So today is miserably boring. Although, I did just receive a rather fantastic text, I must say. I was eating some Reesee's Puffs cereal earlier this morning (I would eat Frosted Flakes, but I'd rather not look at the front of the box and regurgitate the cereal, if you catch my drift) when my cell phone vibrated on my kitchen table.

My brother… Well, I haven't exactly mentioned him yet in here, Stupid, for numerous reasons. Mainly because he is inhumanely embarrassing, therefore, he does not deserve a paragraph or even a sentence with his name in it. But yeah, his name's Trent, and he's seven… and Lilly even remarks that he strikes a stunning resemblance to the troll that lives under the bridge in the Three Billy Goats Gruff. Therefore, he is Trent the Troll. Or as Lilly has so "cleverly" dubbed him… Trolliver. Yeah, whatever, and okay, so that troll in the story doesn't have an exact description, but I have to agree with Lilly -- I wouldn't be surprised if I was one of the goats walking over the bridge and found him underneath it.

But yeah, anyways, Trent heard my phone vibrating. And before I could lunge across the table to grab it, the freaking troll suddenly dashed out of one of our kitchen's cabinets. Don't ask… Mom says he's in a "phase". Even though I can distinctly remember never hiding in random closets and cabinets. One time when I was attempting laundry, I screamed bloody murder when he rolled out of the dryer a couple weeks ago. I say attempting because all my white socks came out green. Why? Oh, Trent decided it would be fun to put his lime green dinosaur costume in with all of my WHITE laundry. Yeah. Well. Stupid troll. I believe the conversation went like this.

Me: (innocently walking into laundry room with pile of white socks while singing horribly off-key. Hey, I'm no Hannah Montana) Heeeeeeeey, get uuuuup, get loooud, start pumpin' up the party now!!

Trent: (rolls out of dryer) RAWR!

Me: AAAAHHHHHHHH! MOOOOM! LAUNDRY MONSTER!!! (runs and trips)

Trent: (grabs my leg)

Me: GET IT OFF, GET IT OFF!!!

Mom: (comes in, in scary man voice) BOYS!!!!

Then we ran out of that room faster than you can say Jingle Bells. Yeah, random… I know, Stupid, I know.

But back to the main point of the story. Trent grabbed my cell phone and started screaming, "OOOOHHHH! Is it LILLLLYY? I WANNA TALK TO LILLY, I WANNA TALK TO LILLY!!!!!!!!" I put that in all caps because everything Trent says should be put in capital letters. He screams everything he says,

I glared at him and grabbed my phone back. I flipped it open to find a text from Miley, and my heart started thumping out of control. It was the first time that's happened from a stupid text message. It read, _"hey oliver. can you come over:)"_

I didn't even think, I just texted back within ten seconds, _"sure. be there in a sec :)"_

I hope that's not too obvious with me texting back that fast. And the smiley face. Even though, she put one first, so there. Even though I am pretty much smiling just like a smiley face. Only bigger. And I have a nose.

Trent got mad that it wasn't Lilly. I don't understand the little troll, and nor do I have time to at the moment because I'm off to Miley's, Stupid! Ah, I'll write later, I'm happy. YAY! I mean… er… Ta-ta.

**Friday, December 21****st****, 4:08 p.m., bedroom.**

Dear Stupid,

It was the first time I had ever felt nervous walking into Miley's house. Like, I don't know, ever since this whole liking her deal, I feel the need to impress her. Even by breathing! Like at that moment for instance… a breathing war of sorts was going on in my head. It went something like this --

_Stupid Oliver! You breathed too loud; she's gonna think you have an unattractive loud breathing problem! Oh, geez, now you're not even breathing!_

Yeah, it's pathetic what Miley is capable of doing to me. And like two weeks ago, I didn't even care if I blew my nose in front of her!!! I don't know how I did it!! Just like, honking my boogers into a tissue while she just stood there all… perfect and beautiful and what-not. AH! Sorry, Stupid, this entry is going to take awhile for me to write because my head is way distracted about tonight. I'll tell you what tonight is here shortly.

So I knocked on her door. A few seconds later, I found myself staring at her as she should in the door frame, facing me. I lost the ability to breathe. Again.

"Hey, Oliver!" she greeted me cheerfully, leading me inside. "I know this is going to sound weird, but I wanted you to help me pick something out for me to wear at my concert tonight."

I remember I was slightly pleased with myself for that brief second. I was the one she called upon. She must've thought extremely high of me. She didn't even call Jerk Garbage! She called ME! _ME! _Oliver Oscar Oken, best friend and potential future boyfriend of Miley Stewart! Okay, so I have no idea if that will ever happen, but yes, for about two brief seconds, I was feeling good… until she continued.

"I feel bad about making you come over here, but Jake had some celebrity thing to do tonight… Can't remember what, the boy talks too much sometimes, but he's so dang lucky that he's so cute!"

This was where I frowned obviously.

"And Lilly couldn't come over. She said she had to…" She fumbled into her pocket to pull out her cell phone and pushed a few buttons. She seemed to be reviewing a text with a perplexed expression. "'Walk her dog'."

"But Lilly doesn't have a dog," I said, just as confused.

"I know, so when I said that, she said she meant ferret."

"…Ferret?"

"I don't know, it's Lilly, Oliver."

And then it hit me that Lilly was up to no good. She purposely had to 'walk her ferret', or what was really sitting on her lazy butt watching Teen Court reruns all night, so that I would be stuck with Miley. Alone. Okay, so 'stuck' is a bad word choice… 'cause really, I shouldn't complain. Alone time with Miley is rare these days with Jake looming around like a… really evil looming person.

And then something weird happened. Miley was like, "So, let's go to my room." No, that's obviously not the weird part. She grabbed my hand. And we began running up the stairs.

Like, she clasped onto my hand like glue. I was transfixed by this, Stupid. I've felt Miley's hands millions of times, but this was different somehow. Like… every red color in my body decided to take a vacation to my cheeks.

The cheeks on my face, I mean, Stupid. I have no idea if my _other_ cheeks were red. It's possible, I guess, but I don't like thinking about it, so never mind.

But yeah, Miley took no notice. She just kept running while I smiled goofily like the donut I am.

When we got to her room, she pushed me onto her bed.

Okay. I'm a guy. Please forgive me for writing this, Stupid. But that move… that was hot. And for a split second, my perverted mind took over me and thought she was going to leap on top of me and make my wildest fantasy teen-boy dreams come true.

Then, the embarrassing you-know-what thing occurred in my los pantalones. Hopefully you know at least a little Spanish, Stupid, to know what I mean.

But Miley didn't notice, thank the LORD! She just turned right around, which saddened me I'll admit, and immediately faced her Hannah closet. "Now, Oliver, you're a guy…"

I folded my arms. "Really, Miley? I didn't notice."

She glanced backward at me, rolling her eyes as I smirked. "You know what I meant. But since you are a guy, I figure I could get an honest opinion from you if I try some stuff on."

With the way she said it, she actually sounded like it seemed like a good idea. But what Miley didn't know was that whatever she wore, I was clearly just going to say it looked amazing on her and even not be lying when I said it. She'd make a garbage sack look attractive, let me tell you.

Ew. Garbage. Worm-rat just popped up into my head. I vomited a little.

Anyways, I hesitantly agreed, and she stepped into her closet and shut the doors behind her. I was left there on her bed. I laid down on it and decided to take in all of Miley's smells… She smelled just like strawberries, too… I know, this is rather embarrassing, and I'm hoping Lilly never gets a hold of you again, Stupid, or I'll be called "Mr. Obsessiver" for the rest of my high school years… Or life, really, because I can see Lilly calling me when I'm eighty-nine and going, "So how about them strawberries?" and I will keel over and die in my rocking chair while holding my cane.

To my extreme humiliation, Miley walked out of the Hannah closet while I was hugging her pillow, my infamous Oliver happy smile and all.

Of course, I had no clue she came out… and definitely don't know to this very minute how long she was standing there just looking at me with her hands at her hips. But when I poked open an eye, I literally jumped completely out of my… fantasy… and onto my feet, shouting the first thing that came to my mind.

"YOU LOOK AMAZING!!!"

Okay, so really, that's what I WISH was the first thing that came to my mind because what I really shouted at Miley was --

"YOU SMELL LIKE STRAWBERRIES!"

She stood there for like an eternity, frozen as we just stared at each other, me with my arms over my head. It was like someone had pushed a pause button on us or something. All I kept thinking was for some miracle to happen to get us out of this uncomfortable situation.

"…Well, I'm just going to save us some awkwardness and pretend that didn't happen, and just ask if you like this halter on me?"

It wasn't exactly the miracle I had hoped for, but you take what you can get… And oh, how I wish I could take Miley at that moment. Well, not like steal her. Or in the perverted sense of taking her. Even though… Oh my God. I can't even think straight right now. Well, I mean, I guess I can considering the thoughts roaming around my head are definitely, one hundred percent STRAIGHT, not homosexual…

Okay, I'm done with that naughty paragraph.

But yes, in that red sparkly halter-top Miley looked absolutely… er… delicious? I know, I know, Stupid, that sounds absolutely TERRIBLE, but she did…. Just like she smelled delicious. Like a strawberry. And you know, in that red top, she kind of resembled one…

Oh dear, I'm sorry, Stupid. I do hope these drool stains dry.

Anyways, I somehow managed to stutter out to Miley, "Th-that looks… p-p-perfect on you."

I don't know where the guts came from, but I'm so happy I said it because I was rewarded with a giant smile from her. And I felt like a million trillion dollars. I don't even care if that's not a number because in Oliver World, that's exactly how to describe how great and accomplished I felt.

"Thanks, Oliver, that was actually… sweet…?"

She sounded kind of shocked and confused. Which I don't really blame her for because since when am I sweet? Except I am a donut. And donuts taste sweet. Well, I don't know if I taste sweet, I'm not a cannibal or anything. I'm sure Miley would taste like strawberries. Not that I'd eat her. I'm not HANNAH-bal Lector. HAHAHAHA! Oh man, I am awesome at jokes.

Uh, yeah, but I meant that I would kiss her. Er, oh my, kissing Miley??? Change of subject???? Er… but yes, since when do I say sweet things like that to Miley? 'Perfect'? I thought that word only existed in my vocabulary when I was describing food?

Well, okay, actually, I guess I'm sweet all the time to her. I do so much for her, really. I remember a month ago I offered to carry her books to her Anatomy class. I don't know why, I felt like I needed to. Lilly was mad because I didn't carry her books the next hour, and…

Whoa… Maybe I've liked Miley for longer than I thought????

Something to think about. Not cool.

So then I told Miley it was no problem, and we talked for a little bit more. I was feeling pretty smug, Stupid. I mean, making her smile as much as I was just by complimenting her? Geesh, if only I was her boyfriend I could make her smile so much more, not that stupid Jerk Rat…

Oh, God. In the midst of all my happiness, I forgot he existed. Ugh. I'm still wishing for a T-rex or an exterminator, really.

Okay, back to a happier subject. Guess who's going to a Hannah Montana concert tonight??? AS "HANNAH'S OTHER BEST FRIEND"???

That's right. Me. Smoken' Oken. Ohhh yeaaah! If you could only see my air punch right now, Stupid, it would add to the whole effect of how happy I am.

She invited me as a "reward for helping her out today". Lilly isn't going. I am. MEEEEEEE! WITH MILEYYYYY!! Er. Yeah.

So right now, I have to go change into some… interesting looking clothes and put on the light-brown haired wig Miley lent me. And off to the concert we are. Not Jake and Miley. It's OLIVER and Miley. Sounds so much better… It's gonna be just us. Oh, and Jackson. And Miley's dad. And Roxy. And the stage crew. But still. Just us.

I have to go. I still have to cancel my psychiatrist appointment tonight. I might not know Dr. Harms too well yet, but I have a feeling she's going to be mad…

Well, wish me luck, Stupid! This is going to be the BEST FRIDAY NIGHT EVER.

WEE DOGGIES!

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Hehehe, hope you all enjoyed this. Please review, I'll try to update as soon as I can! 


	9. Lies

Hola, guys! Thanks for all the reviews as always. I was going to post this like two days ago, but then I was away from my house for a bit and couldn't exactly post. And I'm rather busy with reading my seventh Harry Potter book today… wooo, it's so great and Fred or George can just marry me already with their delightful humor. : I just hope neither of them dies or I might go cry a lot. No, wait. I will cry.

But that's not really anything of importance when it comes to Hannah Montana.

I'm thinking that I will add a very small touch of Lackson, but it won't be a lot because as argentenipinkini said, there aren't enough strictly Moliver fics out there. But yes, no itty bitty Lackson until next chapter. Alrighty then.

Lengthy-ish chapter right here... Enjoy.

_Disclaimer_: Still no.

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**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER NINE: (LOTS OF) LIES 

Dear Stupid,

TONIGHT WAS ONE OF THE GREATEST NIGHTS OF MY ALMOST-SEVENTEEN YEARS OF LIVING!!

AND YES, IT'S TWO, NO, THREE IN THE MORNING, BUT I DON'T CAAAARE!

AHHHHH!! You should see me, Stupid! I'm, like, dancing around in my boxers I'm so happy! And playing air guitar and everything to the Hannah Montana CD! AAHHHH! I don't even care that it's girly because that's MILEY'S voice singing from my stereo! And…

I. Love. Miley. Stewart. X. 867945698. And. Infinity.

No lie.

Well, okay, maybe not love, but it's soooo close to love that it's… the closest you can possibly get to the feeling of love, but not love, okay?! It just _has_ to be! Because I haven't been this happy… ever! Unless you count that time that there was free pizza and ice cream at the mall all day! But that just resulted in me puking my guts out later, and I'm proud to say I haven't puked once since this great night occurred!

Wow! I look like Lilly with all these exclamation points! But I'm, like, shaking! AHHHHH!

By now, Stupid, you're probably wondering what made my night as fantastical as it was. Well, I'll gladly tell you and SHOVE IT IN YOUR FAAAACE!

Okay, really, the night started off kinda horrible.

For one, my light-brown haired wig would not stay on for more than three seconds before some of my dark hair would pop through. Miley was flipping out and kept messing around with it. Not that I minded, of course. I would simply just stand there and smile like a retard until she had to hit me hard to bring me back from I Love Miley World.

When I walked into her house, she was already in her Hannah outfit – of course, the delicious strawberry top I told you about last entry, Stupid. And with her new blonde hair waving over top of it… I'm just going to cut this description short and just say she looked more amazing than any of the Seven Wonders of the World. COMBINED.

I was drooling like Niagara Falls by then because she was like, "Oliver! OLIVER! Will you come back to earth and pay attention to me for _two seconds_?"

She obviously doesn't know that by now, when she's anywhere near me, my complete attention _is_ on her. And it's not really my fault, Stupid, that tonight she happened to be absolutely gorgeous so that my mind would wonder to La La Teenage Boy Fantasy Land, as Dr. Harms calls it. This time, however, it was only Miley feeding me pizza rolls with ranch AND love. Yes, that fantasy should become a reality. And I'd be in this good of a mood ALL the time.

Oh yeah, speaking of Dr. Harms… I had to lie to her tonight. And by now, you should know, Stupid, that I suck at lying. She totally picked up on it, too. Our conversation went like this --

Dr. Harms: (picks up phone after one ring, like she has no life… unlike me) Hello?

Me: Um, Dr. Harms?

Dr. Harms: This is she. Is this Oliver Oken?

Me: Um… no.

Dr. Harms: Oh. Then may I ask who's calling?

Me: This is my (changes voice pitch up drastically) sister.

Dr. Harms: Your sister?

Me: I mean, I am my sister! I mean –

Dr. Harms: Since when do you have a sister, Oliver?

Me: (still in my girly voice) This isn't Oliver, this is Oliv…ia speaking. Oliver's in bed sick right now.

Dr. Harms: Oh, really? Can you tell him this message for me then, Olivia?

Me: (thinking she bought it for a second) Sure.

Dr. Harms: He's off the hook this time for lying to miss an appointment, but next time, he better tell the truth.

Me: I'm not lying.

Dr. Harms: So you're Oliver now?

Me: Um… no.

Dr. Harms: Well, before I find out that your Oliver's twin brother I didn't know about or something, I'm just going to let you go back to doing whatever is so important that you must miss our meeting tonight.

Me: Miley. Er –

Dr. Harms: Ah, then all is understood. Good luck, my dear.

Me: Luck?! With what – (phone goes dead)

So yeah. She saw through my Olivia disguise. Which was really good, Stupid, you just couldn't hear my voice. So to you, it looks extremely unbelievable. But believe me, buddy, I had her going there for a second!

BUT BACK TO MILEY'S HOUSE!

After I came back to planet earth as Miley suggested, she began looking me up and down. And suddenly, I became very self-conscious of my appearance. I started tugging on the collar of my shirt. She was making me nervous for some reason.

"Now, let's see here," she said and began to circle me. "I guess you are suited well enough…" Her eyes drifted to the top of my head. "But, boy, your hair looks like a fight between a raccoon and a cocker spaniel."

I grinned slightly at her Southern accent, but stopped abruptly because GUESS WHAT! She leaned up into me, our noses barely touching, and for a brief second, I honestly thought she was going to just pucker up and make out with me and make me the happiest boy on the planet. Except for the Dough Boy… I'd probably kill to be him.

But yes, unfortunately as always, my luck sucks. She had just leaned her face that close to mine to fix my wig, like I stated earlier. I was blushing, too… and without even realizing it, I found myself staring at her lips. Her beautiful, curvy, juicy, wonderful, mesmerizing lips. Now, as I stared at them, I can't really remember what Miley was now talking about. I just followed the movement of her lips… Them rising and falling… And the 'o' shape was a killer. Not even going into why, Stupid. I feel guilty even writing in it here. Dear Lord. And she smelt like grapes instead of strawberries now. Wonderful, perfect purple grapes.

And then something incredibly strange happened. I looked up into Miley's eyes, and the sound of her voice came to a halt. We stayed in this position for like five whole seconds. But it was like… a perfect moment for me. I got to memorize the exact color of her eyes.  
They were a perfect mix of blue, green, and grey. _Maybe I should just call them greebluay_, is what I thought. Thinking because I didn't know what to say exactly since we were just like, staring at each other. Is it weird that I thought her eyes were hott? Because, um, yeah, they were. I felt very nervous looking into them and all that…. Stuff…. And the scent of grapes was getting quite intoxicating. It was great Miley and I moment, though.

Until the donut, A.K.A. me, ruined everything, of course.

Since I was like, "Your eyes are very greebluay, Miley."

Oh, yes, greebluay eyes, Oliver, that is what every girl's dream is to hear from a man. You are a freaking IDIOT.

Not you as in _you_, Stupid. You as in me. Not that you're _in_ me. Oh dear. Shutting up.

I guess Miley hated me, though, because her face got red (angry?) and she like flew backwards away from me, sputtering out, _"W-What?"_

I checked my armpits, but they smelt refreshingly Axe-y. So I've came to the conclusion she hated me at that moment. I tried not to screw up my next line of words, which I failed at, since they were, "I meant grape."

Grape. I hate myself for saying that 'cause yes, Oliver, that makes PERFECT sense!!!! I should've just stuck with greebluay!

Anyways, after that, Miley kind of just looked at me strangely and said, "Thanks?" and we boarded into the limo.

The limo ride was okay. Jackson… _attempted_ to sing along to all of the Hannah Montana songs currently blaring into our ears. Miley once said she had a dream that her mom said he sang like a walrus. After hearing this sound, I suddenly wanted to become a walrus poacher.

Nothing too excited happened in the limo, of course. Miley went over ground rules for me, though… basically all of them lead up to, "Don't do anything stupid," which is a very hard rule NOT to break in my opinion. And the 'stupid' in the sentence is not directed at you, Stupid. Except it does essentially work. You don't do anything. You sit around and wait for me to come open you back up and write in you. Oh dear, I'm talking to a book. I need help.

But yeah, I don't know if Miley realized it, but a couple of times our hands brushed against each other. It was very nice. Hehe.

But, the concert was…

GREAT.

At first, it started off, like, terrible. People were running around everywhere backstage like a bunch of Keebler elves, and I spent half my time looking to see where Miley would disappear, too, and the other half of the time just _wondering _where she disappeared to. (And I guess like twenty minutes total spent in eating the wonderful Hannah Montana cake back there, but whatever.)

Then Hannah Montana walked up to me. Well, Miley. But shh.

I was stuffing my face with frosting.

Embarrassing.

"How you doing, Olive--"

And suddenly, cameras flashed everywhere around us. I screamed and ducked behind Miley, not totally sure of what was going on. Honestly I thought we were being abducted by aliens, but you are the only one who knows that, Stupid.

"Who is this young gentleman, Ms. Montana?"

"Are you two close?"

"How about boyfriend and girlfriend?"

Those were about three of the ten hundred questions being asked within five seconds. I wanted to laugh at that last one. Or punch something.

"Oh, this is Oliv--" Hannah/Miley stopped mid-sentence with a look of horror when I nudged her accordingly on the side. She finally got the hint after about three nudges. (I could've very well _gladly_ nudged her more, but I don't want to sound perv-ish, Stupid). She had almost said my real name to the press. "Um, Olive. Yes, my… friend, Olive. First name… Harry? But we call him Olive."

Dear Lord. It was our fault for not thinking of my alter-ego name sooner.

I'm Harry Olive now. Like some very bad J.K. Rowling parody starring me.

And Olives are not hairy.

Except for this olive's legs.

Then after some further questioning and explaining that I was not her boyfriend (I died on the inside) to the press, Hannah/Miley delivered her concert to her 47859467 fans. I just stayed back and watched her offstage. Eating lots cake with piles of frosting on top of it. It was deliciously amazing. Heaven sent, really. Shut up.

Then something horrible happened.

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and I turned around.

You would think God might let me off the hook with this one, but no, of course not. A night alone with Miley would apparently be too great of an experience for me because tonight I had to see one of my least favorite people ever. Or just about my least favorite, except the Trolliver. Except, I'd much rather have _him _show up than, you guessed it -- the Garbage of Jerkiness himself.

"Hey," he said to me while I choked on my cake from the sight of his ugliness. Okay, just utter shock, really, but if I would've known he was there, I definitely would've been choking because of his ugliness.

"Hi?" I said awkwardly after I had recovered.

"Hannah's quite amazing, isn't she?"

I wanted to wring his neck just for standing there, but that just made me want to throw down some of the Hannah Montana cake and hopefully make him choke on it like I was two seconds before.

He didn't know Miley was Hannah Montana. He was like, hitting on _Hannah Montana, not Miley_! IN FRONT OF ME. HANNAH'S BEST FRIEND EXCEPT LILLY! AND HE HAD MILEY, THE MOST PERFECT GIRLFRIEND EVER!

I guess it isn't exactly cheating if you know the Miley/Hannah thing. But he didn't know. So I still wanted to wring his neck. Three times.

I didn't get to say anything back to the pile of douche because Miley/Hannah finished her concert, then looked like a deer in headlights when she saw Jake standing there next to me waving at her.

She kind of looked… disappointed.

But that could be my imagination, Stupid.

"Hannah!" Jerk Rat exclaimed cheerily.

"Jake…?" Miley/Hannah tried to imitate his happy tone, but failed miserably.

I cheered on the inside.

"You sounded amazing out there. Anyway, I came by to deliver some flowers… Roses."

AND HE PULLED OUT A DOZEN OF FREAKING RED ROSES FROM BEHIND HIS BACK. LIKE A FREAKING MAGICIAN. A TERRIBLE, SUCKY MAGICIAN WHO SUCKS AT LIFE.

Miley/Hannah looked incredibly happy there and like grabbed the roses from him. She looked up into his eyes as I sat there miserably waiting for them to make-out… when I realized something. She wasn't Miley at the moment. She _couldn't _kiss him! Hooray!

I kneed her in the back of the leg, and she broke out of her daze to look back at me.

"Cheater," was what came out of my mouth.

"Cheater?" Jake said like he had no idea what one was, or at the moment, was attempting to be one. "Who's a cheater?"

Miley's eyes were very wide. Dangerously close to probably popping out of their sockets, I'd say.

"Oh, he meant… er… 'cheetah' because um," her huge eyes were scanning the area for something before they fell on the leopard print patches luckily imprinted on her jeans, "he just noticed my patches here! Didn't you, Oliv--… Olive!?"

A very sharp pain in my side concluded I had been punched with her elbow.

I didn't want to play along with this. I honestly wanted to grab Miley's microphone, walk off onto the stage and announce to National Television how much of an asshole Jake Ryan was, and that if you came within twenty meters of him, you might catch herpes, but I couldn't do that unfortunately.

"Er, yes," I said. "Mi--… My Hannah here has cheetah print here on her jeans! Didn't even see it 'till just now!"

Jerk Rat looked at us like we had told him he was ugly. Which, as you can imagine, would shock an egomaniac like himself terribly.

"'_Your_' Hannah, huh?" He growled to me. Yes, growled. Like a Doberman pincher. "And just who are you?"

My thoughts at that moment_The name's Oliver Oscar Oken, the Triple-O Threat! A.K.A. Miley Stewart's best friend, who I am inclined on protecting, with whatever scrawny muscles I have! So step off, Jerk Rat, before I kick you in the balls, that is, saying you actually have any!_

Unfortunately, I don't have balls either because what I really said was, "Olive. Harry Olive. Hannah Montana's new official boyfriend."

Really, I had no clue what was coming out of my mouth. Miley didn't seem to be too pleased… or maybe she secretly was, I have no idea, just that her mouth all the way open to the floor probably wasn't a good sign.

Her jaw almost even made its way _through _the floor when I _put my arm around her_. Normally, I would've just about peed myself of happiness, but at the moment, I had no idea what I was doing.

Jake looked flabbergasted. And three reporters popped out of seemingly nowhere, snapping pictures of us, Miley and I, together.

_Together_. Doesn't that sound beautiful, Stupid?

Jerk Rat ran off somewhere, or maybe just disappeared, I could care less if he was getting decapitated by the Queen of… Wherever, because the girl of my dreams was in my arms. Even if she wasn't so happy about it, in all the pictures being taken of us, my grin was incredibly real.

The limo ride home sucked.

Miley just yelled at me for awhile, saying how dumb I am because now she'll never have a chance with Zac Efron (although, I don't see why she would be disappointed about that?), and that we better "break-up" in public soon.

So I was slightly disappointed and heartbroken she wanted us to be over so quickly. Of course, looking on the bright side, it was Harry Olive and Hannah Montana that were currently "dating". Not me and her. So maybe I have a chance still?

They dropped me off at my house after making sure no paparazzi was hiding in the bushes or something. "Harry Olive's" could not be found out since "Harry Olive" didn't really exist until about an hour ago.

But the best thing of my entire night happened right before I got out. After I gave her back the brown wig, I turned to say goodbye to Miley, right? But she stopped me completely and was like, "Oh, geesh, I'm sorry, Oliver… I didn't mean to sound so mad and yell at you… I guess I'm just upset about the Jake thing… and now I don't know if he really even likes me. The _real _me, anyways. But in a weird way, you saved me from letting him, er, 'cheat' on me." She used finger-quotes there. "So thanks, Oliver. I owe you one."

She leaned in…

And kissed me on the cheek. (!!!!!!!!!)

For, I'm guessing about one point three seconds. BUUUUT it was the best one point three seconds of my life. Duh. And I was blushing very hard, I must add. Heinz ketchup ain't got nothin' on me!

I really just wanted to grab her and make out with her, too, to maybe make it the best _twenty _minutes of my life, but Jackson and even Miley's dad were like, staring at us. Which made it awkward, and Miley doesn't like me like that anyways, so I just said, "No problem…" and almost just fell out of the limo I was so happily dazed.

And now I'm sitting here writing in you, Stupid, to declare my undying love, er, LIKE, for Miley Stewart.

She truly is better than pizza rolls with ranch.

And Lilly texted me. I didn't tell her anything of what happened except the Harry Olive/Hannah Montana thing (which she didn't hesitate to make a couple jokes about, you know, with my real feelings and all), but I guess I'm supposed to go Christmas shopping with her in the morning. Miley's coming, too, I guess, and Jackson's driving. Oh, Lord. I will be a complete, babbling idiot.

And I'm falling asleep…

So goodnight, Stupid.

Have sweet dreams.

I know I will.

Ehehe.

NOT LIKE THAT!!!!

Okay. GOODNIGHT.

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Yay! I have nothing to say right here, so just review. :D 


	10. Antelope

Okay, this chapter hardcore sucks, no lie. I hate it a lot. I felt it was a pain to write because I was _very_ low on creativity, but I honestly tried. Just for you guys. So be happy or something that I actually updated.

And um, it's kind of Loliver-ish at the beginning, I hate to tell you. I don't like Loliver too much, or even much at all really, so it's _not_ meant to be that way. But you have to understand that Lilly and Oliver are best friends, too, so they _do_ goof around with each other. And it doesn't mean that they have feelings for each other, okay? And Lilly fit the character that would do the thing she does in the chapter to him… Because she's so crazy like that. I don't think I could see Miley doing it, so yeah. Just wanted to make clear of this so no one complains.

Beginning of Lackson, too. VERY slight Lackson, as I have promised to you.

Anyways, here you go. Enjoy.

_Disclaimer_: Still, I don't own Hannah Montana. Mucho sadness.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER TEN: ANTELOPE 

**Saturday, December 22nd, around 12:00 p.m., bench in mall.**

Dear Stupid,

Miley, Lilly, and Jackson are all trying on clothes at the moment. I would be with them, of course, if I actually _wore_ that brand of clothing, but whatever. I thought I'd take this chance to write in you about what has happened today so far… which has kind of been a lot… An _embarrassing_ kind of a lot.

Let's start with my excruciatingly painful wake-up call at nine 'o' clock this morning.

You know, I'm like most guys when it comes to sleeping apparel, all right? I don't sleep in what you call pajamas unless you call my boxers-that-have-smiley-faces-all-over-them pajamas. And that's literally all I wear to bed. I get very hot when I'm off in dream world with Miley Stewart.

Oh my God. I sound like a forty-year-old pervert.

But yeah. You get the picture. So I was laying there all peacefully and happily, kissing Miley… yes, in my dreams, but I thought it sounded believable for a split second. And it was very nice to write, I can't wait until I might actually be able to write that sentence without lying. But anyways, as I was lying there, something like, jumped on me.

Yes, jumped. Like a tiger on an antelope out on a hunt, and I was, of course, the antelope with bad luck of the day. And this tiger had sharp claws. Okay, really, she just probably had her nails done, but whatever.

So. I woke up to a tigress named Lilly on top of me, our faces about a millimeter apart, and she was grinning ever so evilly. I was horrified beyond belief, just as a poor antelope should be. So I screamed like a little girl and went, "AHHHH!" like how a scream sounds, which made Lilly start laughing hysterically, so I thrashed about wildly, but she held me down with her terrible claws. And then she was just staring at me all mischievously.

I glanced at the clock. Nine freaking a.m., Stupid!!!! WHO IS EVEN FUNCTIONING PROPERLY AT _NINE A.M.?!_ Oh wait, Tiger Lilly. HAHAHAHA. Oh man, I just made a funny. I rock.

Anywho, I held the covers up protectively over my body so she couldn't come in contact with it. I also had my Simba snuggled up next to me. Shut up, Stupid. Stuffed lions are incredibly manly.

"I've got you now, my pretty! And your little kitty, too!" Lilly screamed like the Wicked Witch of the West.

Well, not really, but I swear she was about to.

But now, Stupid, let me set the record straight.

I don't feel any sort of _those_ feelings for Lilly Truscott, believe me. But if a girl is on top of you, and a pretty one (Lilly is pretty, just… I don't like her like the way I like Miley… I've known her too long to suddenly want her like that, ew) at that, and you're a guy… Well, you're gonna feel a bit awkward and out of place. Even if it's your best friend since kindergarten. And I really had no clue why Lilly was doing this to me. She's never woken me up by flying across the room with lightning fast tiger claws.

I was pretty red actually due to the uncomfortable feeling I was getting.

Not 'cause I like her like that. But because… well… I am pretty much naked underneath the blankets, and Lilly has never seen me naked before in my life. And I don't plan on her ever seeing it either.

"Lilly… What are you doing…" I mumbled with the covers over my face.

"I tried calling you about eight hundred and sixty two times, stupid," she said like this made it perfectly okay to be pinning me down on my own bed. Oh my God, that sounds horrible. "And then I tried knocking on your door. Trolliver answered and said you were still sleeping. So I knocked on your bedroom door. Only response I got was a whole lot of snoring. So I stomped in and screamed your name. Didn't work. And now, I have pounced upon your blubbery self, and you are awake. Great success!"

Lilly really sucks at a Borat impression, but whatever.

"I am not blubbery," I mumbled, still under the covers. "And it's like… nine something in the morning. How in the _world_ do you have so much energy?"

"Easy. The thought of shopping until I drop and two cappuccinos is enough to make me run three whole marathons. Which reminds me, we're leaving to go to the mall in about or around twenty minutes, so you better get going."

"AHHHH!!! WHAT!!!" I pushed her off me and she flew onto the floor as I flew to my bathroom. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!"

"OW! Thanks a lot, you idiot, you could've broken my leg! And like I said, I tried to call you eight hundred and sixty two times."

I didn't even reply, just hopped into the shower and out, got dressed, and was out of my house in ten minutes. I walked to my car, but was stopped when Lilly stepped in front of me.

"We are not taking your car when it takes a ten minute walk to get there, Oliver," she said to me angrily.

"It is nine a.m., Lilly," I said with the same tone. "I am not walking anywhere at nine a.m. _on a Saturday where I should be sleeping._"

"Well, we are. Besides, you need the exercise, Blubberbutt."

And I proceed to chase her down the sidewalk until she very suddenly turned to me, and began walking backwards and was like, "So Harry Olive, eh? When are you going to break it to Hannah Montana that you are actually truly head over heels in love with her?"

"I am not head over heels for her," I said simply, forgetting the Blubberbutt comment for some reason. Even if it partly is a lie. I am head over heels for Miley, really, just not in love. In _like_ head over heels.

"Whatever, _Harry_."

"Stop calling me that, _Lola_."

"I will once you finally tell Miley how you really feel."

We just pointlessly argued for about another hour. Well, about five minutes, I guess, it just felt like longer because arguing with Lilly is as knowledgeable as a science lesson with Ms. Kunkle. Which is, of course, fifty minutes worth of NOTHING.

We finally got Miley's. Miley came bouncing outside, looking beautiful as ever in a green dress with leggings. I guess I was staring at her because Lilly had to nudge me in order to bring me back from space.

Jackson soon followed out, and something really weird happened.

Lilly's eyes got all wide at him (???) and she immediately yelled, "SHOTGUN!" and hopped into Jackson's car like a freaking kangaroo. Jackson looked mildly confused at this, too, and then got into the car with a shake of his head.

Miley gave me a strange look also, but then she shrugged. I was staring again like an idiot, pretty much at her lips basically, thinking about the kiss she had given me last night, and how much I wish the lips would magically land upon mine.

She didn't know that, though. She looked behind her. "Oliver, what are you staring at? It's just a lamp post."

I shook myself out of my trance, trying to actually use my brain to come up with something to say. Because I couldn't say I was staring at her and say how beautiful she looked. She wouldn't like that – she doesn't like me in that way… And I suck at complimenting people. I mean, just last night I said she had greebluay eyes. I pretty much lost my chance after that dud of a compliment came out of my mouth.

"R-RIGHT!" I stuttered out. "Well, it's a _beautiful_ lamp post! I just can't keep my eyes off of it! Er, haha?" I was kind of metaphorically speaking, but Miley is clueless about that.

She even gave me a strange look, which I don't blame her for. I am such a weird antelope.

Then Tiger Lilly screamed out the window of Jackson's car, "STOP MAKING OUT AND GET IN THE CAR ALREADY!"

It was so embarrassing.

Although I wouldn't mind it actually if we _were_ making out. But I'm not going to go into that.

Miley just laughed, though, and called back, "Whatever, Lilly!" and got in the car. I followed, taking my seat next to her, red as Rudolph's nose. Lilly glanced back at me, smirking. I just decided to give her a death glare because I'm that awesome at being annoyed with her.

The car ride wasn't too bad. I had to look out the window to refrain from staring at Miley. She was really oddly quiet the entire ride there. Basically, we were listening to the radio. Er, I'm kinda lying actually because Jackson and Lilly were way louder than the radio… They were talking. Er, arguing really. It was something like this –

Lilly: We're listening to Hannah Montana! (changes radio station)

Jackson: No! (changes it back to Hinder) I've heard enough of her! I _LIVE_ with her for crying out loud!

Lilly: Yeah, well she's my _best friend_, but I'm not sick of her yet! (changes it back to HM)

Jackson: STOP IT! (changes it back)

Lilly: YOU stop it!!! (changes it back)

Jackson: WHY didn't I go shopping yesterday? AHHHH!

Lilly: (singing horribly off-key) _LIFE'S WHAT YOU MAAAKE IT!_

Jackson: SWEET NIBBLETS, MY EARS! And they say _I _sound like a walrus?!? STOP IT! (changes it back to Hinder)

Lilly: NEVER!!!!! (changes it back)

As Miley and I were watching this, something extremely weird happened. They both reached for the radio knob at the same time so that their hands were touching, then they looked at each other, looked away kind of embarrassed, and left the radio where it was… Hannah Montana.

I raised an eyebrow. I looked to Miley; she was busy texting someone. I'm so horrible and nosy that I looked over her shoulder to see.

I scoffed. Jerk Rat.

"You _still_ like him?" I said, irritated. She _should_ be paying attention to what was right in front of her. I would never cheat on her with Hannah Montana. Okay, that makes absolutely zero sense. For one, Miley is Hannah Montana. And another, my alter ego is _dating_ Hannah Montana.

Whoa, so in a weird way… I'm dating the girl of my dreams, and I've just now realized it. SWEET! I'm halfway there!!!! Woooah, living on a prayer! Sorry, Bon Jovi moment.

Anyways, Miley blinked at me, and then bit her bottom lip. She looked adorable, except I didn't like what came out of her mouth, which was FAR from adorable, "Yeah…"

Lilly suddenly turned around. "Miley, I would personally dump that idiot and go for someone, or maybe even a _different _idiot… at least one that's more… deserving." My eyes got wide, and I couldn't breathe. She _wouldn't_… would she?

She was grinning like the Wicked Witch of the West again. "I mean, give someone else a chance for once. They could prove to be less of a donut to you!"

I honestly wanted to push her out of the car at that moment.

Oh, wait, it gets worse.

"There's so many more fish in the sea… Get away from Jerk Garbage."

YEAH. _JERK FREAKING GARBAGE._ SHE SAID IT OUT LOUD! TO MILEY!!!

Miley went in her wonderful Southern accent, "Jerk Garbage? What in the world are y'all talkin' about, girl?"

"I'm so sorry it's probably going to take you a zillion years to figure that out, Miley," Lilly said and turned back to the windshield, which she should be looking at in the first place instead of making me blush and stuff.

Then Miley looked at me for an answer. Like I'm really going to just confess right up and there that I secretly call Jake Ryan Jerk Garbage and that I am the donut Lilly referred to.

I said, "Oh, that Lilly! HAHA!"

My God. Kill me? Oh, but that would be too nice. Instead, I'm alive still, suffering.

Either Jackson seriously just wanted me to sit there in uncomfortable silence for longer than necessary, or he drives five miles per hour, but we finally got to the mall. And we've been nonstop shopping ever since… I've already gotten Lilly the pair of Converse she's wanted for like ever… The ones where you draw on them, you know? I wasn't sure if I was supposed to get Jackson anything, but I felt bad that since he was with us, so I did anyways. I got him a white t-shirt with "CHICK MAGNET" stenciled across it. He'll never wear it, but whatever, Jackson's weird to shop for. I mean, he's my dream girl's brother… awkward, right? And I still haven't even found _what_ to get _Miley_. It has to be _perfect_.

Speaking of her, Miley has been looking kind of sad all morning as she's shopped. I don't know why, but she hasn't really been talkative at all. She's really only speaking to Lilly. Which makes me kind of mad because I haven't done anything. Right, Stupid? _RIGHT????_

What the crud, why am I waiting for a response from a freaking notebook?

Wow. I am too cool of an antelope, I know.

Hold on a sec…

Lilly just came out here. She says I need to see Miley in this skirt because she isn't sure if she should buy it, and I guess my opinion will supposedly matter. "Even though you are just a donut," she adds. Whatever. She makes no sense.

So I gotta go, Stupid. I mean, I _cannot_ turn down a moment of seeing Miley in a freaking SKIRT. I mean, HUBBA HUBBA much? _AWOOOO!_ That was supposed to be a wolf howl, Stupid. Work with me here.

Although I suppose we antelopes here don't howl. What sound _do_ antelopes make??? Do they even make noises? I'm guessing frustrated ones because I seem to be huffing and puffing a lot in my life lately. And sighing happily because of Miley. Oh, there goes a sigh now.

I mean, Tiger Lilly obviously growls and roars.

Miley, well, I haven't classified her as an animal yet. I've classified her as food instead, like a strawberry with greebluay eyes. Oh, geez, that reminds me, I'm hungry.

Er, but yeah, I suppose she'd be like a beautiful songbird.

AH! Sorry, Stupid! I must be getting to that beautiful songbird! Tiger Lilly is getting annoyed. Even growling like she's going to pounce on me again.

She wants me to tell you that, "'Ollie-kins' is sorry he must stop writing in you. And he is so girly for writing in you, a 'diary' (which you aren't), about all his mushy mush love for Miley Stewart."

I retort the entire thing. I mean, Ollie-kins? What the—

OKAY, SORRY, BLUBBERBUTT HAS TO GO, DIARY, GOOD FREAKING BYE!!!!!!

_Love,  
Ollie-kins and Lillllyyyyyyyy_

* * *

I hope you get that Lilly wrote that last part, haha. 

So, review and tell me what you think of my worst chapter ever. It's yucky and unfunny, I know. (runs from the throwings of random vegetables)


	11. Polka Dots

I don't have much to say about this chapter except that it's kind of perverted in a way. But hopefully you all understand that Oliver is a guy, so yeah. Just enjoy.

By the way, I saw Everybody Was Best Friend Fighting tonight… It was great. Oliver makes me laugh so much. Especially with the vampire thing, I seriously died laughing for like a minute. And also the episode portrayed some Moliverness, eh? That made me ecstatic, and if you haven't seen it and are a Moliver fan, you probably should soon. :D

Okay, I'm done.

_Disclaimer: _I don't own Hannah Montana. Or the adorable Mitchel Musso. (sniffle)

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER ELEVEN: Polka Dots

**Saturday, December 22nd, around 4ish, back porch swing.**

Dear Stupid,

Holy, holy, holy, holy, holy, holy Hell.

First and foremost, I apologize for the soaking wet pages. I had to carry you out from the mall somehow, and I wasn't able to dry myself off quick enough to get out of there.

I'll explain why I was drenched here shortly.

Now, I know I complain a lot to you about how I'm constantly put into embarrassing situations. But I _really_ am. There must be neon orange lights on the top of my head that say "EMBARRASS ME SOME MORE, BIG GUY, I DARE YA!!!" or something for God to see. Otherwise I don't think it's quite human how many times I can be humiliated in a day.

So you know how I left off with Lilly dragging me into that clothes store?

Oh, by the way, I apologize for her calling you a diary, Stupid. You are a journal. Really, just _don't_ listen to her girly terms. I mean, _I_ have all these years, look where it's gotten me. I've been thrown into the Happy Hotel. Well, really just Dr. Harm's office, but that just might as well _be_ what people are referring to when they say Happy Hotel.

So yeah. I followed Lilly into that store. She turned around to me when we got to the dressing rooms entrance.

"Third door to the right," and she freaking disappeared.

Like, literally. I don't know where she went the millisecond after she said that. She is one heck of a magician, I guess. Perhaps Captain Hook had kidnapped Tiger Lilly, like in Peter Pan. Er, you wouldn't really understand that, Stupid, but you never know. Captain Hook very well could have taken Lilly off to Neverland.

But, er, because of her disappearance (or kidnapping) I was so confused (and scared, kind of), but I made my way into the hallway of the pink dressing room doors. I was petrified at the thought of being caught in the girls' dressing room, but the thought of Miley in a skirt kept my courage up, pathetically enough.

"Miley?" I called nervously and knocked when I got to the door Lilly had specified.

No reply.

"Um, Miley? It's me Oliver," I tried again, but still there was nothing. I looked to the bottom of the door, but there wasn't an opening like in bathroom stalls. I am really an idiot for doing this next thing, but I turned the door's knob and slowly opened it.

"Miley, are you in here?"

Well.

She was.

In her hot pink bra.

And polka dot underwear.

Listening to her iPod.

And full out rock star dancing to the mirror in front of her.

Well, er, she _was_ until she saw me in the mirror, too, just standing there in horror. Okay, not horror, but amazement.

She was really quite… hot. Oh, geez, I sound gross.

I wasn't even blushing for once, just staring at her, probably looking like a starved animal… maybe even drooling, I have no idea, but it wouldn't surprise me. I couldn't help but have my eyes go up and down her body like a freaking pervert.

_And Ollie likey what he sawy._

Oh my God, Stupid, I think I may have become a pervert. I should be shot for thinking such thoughts about one of my best friends. But I am a boy. And she's a girl. It's… natural? Oh, God, no it's not. This is my best friend. This is Miley. Miley Stewart. Beautiful, half-naked Miley Stewart.

AHHHH!!!!!!!!! KILL MEEEEE!!!

Um, yes, anywho, Stupid, it was an extremely quiet two seconds when we were in that situation. Until, well, this squeal —

"AAAAHHH!!!!!! WHAT ARE YOU _DOING?!?!_ GET OUT, GET OUT, _GET OUUUUTTT!!!!!!!_"

After I pretty much went deaf, I was literally shoved backwards by a half naked Miley, onto the ground, and two men dressed in all black picked me up and escorted, well, _carried_ me out of the store with some very harsh words of how I should be arrested for "being a peeping Tom".

I said, "But my name's Oliver, not Tom."

Then, luckily, Miley came storming out of the store, gave a rushed explanation of, "He's my stupid best friend, and it was an accident," and grabbed me by the arm and dragged me off down the mall.

We stopped at the giant fountain.

I was staring again.

I swear, I almost regret seeing Miley half naked because now the image will not erase from my mind, especially at times of which I am looking at her. Hot pink bra… Polka dot panties…

OH MY GOD, I CAN'T EVEN CONCENTRATE, I'M DONE!!!!!!!!!!

**Like, twenty minutes later.**

Er, Stupid, I'm sorry about that.

I needed a break.

So.

Me and Miley. At the giant fountain in the middle of the mall. (Just trying to reset the scenery for you.)

"Oliver," Miley in her polka dot panties said.

Yeah.

Never mind.

Screw this.

**Another twenty minutes later.**

I'm fully okay now, Stupid. Honestly this time. I'm ready to continue where I left off.

So, here we go. Again.

"Oliver," Miley began, setting herself upon the edge of the fountain. I cautiously took a seat next to her. "Um, well, I don't really know what to say after what just happened."

I could think of a few words, such as hot, amazing, and _pounce_.

Instead I said, "I'm sorry, Miley. I tried calling your name a few times, but you didn't answer." Her cheeks went scarlet. I smiled at her; she's adorable when she looks embarrassed. "But I see now it was because you were rockin' out to – "

"Justin Timberlake," she interrupted with a bright smile.

"Oh, well, I have to say that you were _definitely_ bringing sexy back," I said.

I know, Stupid. I wish I could think before speaking sometimes, too.

Instead of her freaking out, however, she smiled at me, and I blushed redder than she had been a second ago. She leaned in closer, and it suddenly seemed like someone had lit my face on fire. Seriously. My face felt like 38579 degrees.

She raised one eyebrow at me, smirking dangerously and all sultry-like. I gulped. The temperature was rising in my body with every second.

"So you think I'm _sexy_, eh?"

I was extremely confused by this question. It seemed like Miley was actually _flirting_ with me. This would mildly confuse me at any point in my life since I don't really think this has ever happened between her and I. But maybe I should celebrate instead of complain?

But then, this is me who we are talking about, Stupid. I obviously cannot control my mouth when it comes to talking to Miley, I mean, look at the "sexy back" statement I made.

But this next one takes the cake. Two cakes actually.

I blinked my eyes at Miley and said simply, "No."

I know – WHAT. THE. _EFF_. IS WRONG WITH ME??????!?!?!?

I mean, Stupid, I am, like, _obsessed_ with Miley!!! You know this! She is drop dead sexy! Like, I think pervy thoughts I sadly can't control about her _way too much_. And seeing her half naked in front of a mirror was like some sick teenage boy fantasy of mine come true!

Well, just as I had suspected, Miley looked pretty tweaked. All at once, the seductiveness in her eyes and expression died, then reincarnated as a verrrrry scary glare. I mean, I don't blame her or anything. I had pretty much just told her she's not sexy, when she, in fact, _is _sexier than just about anyone. Even sexier than Jessica Alba in chains. Oh crap, that's getting crossed out…

Er, change of subject. I think the only reason I told Miley she wasn't sexy was because I didn't want her to know that I think about her in non-best friend related kind of ways that involve lots of kissing and… er, other things! SHE JUST _CAN'T_ FIND OUT ABOUT THOSE KINDS OF THOUGHTS!

So, I struggled to cover this up, "I mean, yes, you _are _sexy! I—" I stopped short. Her eyes were becoming extremely narrow and menacing. I was almost positive that if her eyes had mouths, they'd be baring fangs.

"Um, I mean, you're like… _Ow ow?_" I tried, one of my eyes twitching like it normally does when I'm put under high amounts of pressure.

"Ohhh, I'll show you '_ow ow'_ alright!"

And the next thing you know, she had harshly pushed me into the fountain.

Everyone around us had suddenly directed attention to the boy with the notebook that had been launched into the water, A.K.A. me, and the girl who stomped away angrily with three shopping bags, A.K.A. Miley.

Some random guy walked over to me as I sat there in the fountain, my clothes drenched, and my hair almost completely covering my face.

"I think you blew it, man," he said sadly. I spat out a bunch of water on him like a whale, and he took off running.

I slowly got out of the fountain, and people were just staring as water dripped off of me onto the floor. I felt like a freaking drenched cat.

"Oliver?"

My head turned at the feminine squeak of my name to see Jackson and Lilly standing not too far away, each holding a slushie.

Jackson could not stand still any longer. He fell over laughing.

Lilly, however, actually decided to be (well, kind of) nice to me for once and ran over to me immediately, snatching my shopping bags and you, too, Stupid, so that nothing could become even more wet than it already was.

"What in the world did you do to her to make her that angry, you donut?" she hissed at me. _"Grab her butt?!"_

"No! I—"

"Save it," she said with a sigh. "Let's just go find Miley and go home."

"But I haven't got her a Christmas present yet!" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up. Which really wasn't such a great idea, because a tunnel of water reached off my sleeves and all over Lilly.

"Oliver…" she growled, eyes shut tightly as if she was holding back all the patience in the world. "If I'm not home in the next thirty minutes, and it's _your_ fault…"

"I get it, I get it! I will mysteriously become poisoned after a sip of my next glass of kool-aid!"

She blinked at me. "Well, I was just going to say that I'll tell Miley about your feelings, but hey, that works, too."

So unfortunately, I wasn't even able to get Miley a present, which definitely will make Miley hate me even more when she finds out I haven't gotten her anything.

Let's see here. I only saw her half-naked, called her un-sexy, and didn't get her a Christmas present all in one day (she doesn't need to know that last one, though). That's not going to score any points for Smoken' Oken at all. In fact, she's probably in her bedroom throwing darts at my head.

I was going to go back to the mall tonight, but I'm stuck watching Trent while Mom goes Christmas shopping for us. Yeah, THANKS, Mom. I'm outside here watching him throw toy airplanes around, two of which have landed ON MY HEAD, but oh, it's okay, 'cause I'm an idiot. _"I'll gladly watch him, Mother."_ WHAT WAS I THINKING?!?

And tomorrow, the three of us are going out to lunch for some "family time" like Mom wants… I hate bringing the troll with me in public. He likes to blow snot boogers in my face.

Oh, and I also have to attend a CD signing at this library place with Miley, er, Hannah, where she will "officially break up" with "Harry Olive" in front of the public.

Oh yeah, in case you were wondering, Stupid, I was still stuck sitting next to Miley on the way home from the mall. Jackson "didn't want his passenger seat soaking wet". But that didn't seem to apply for some reason when Lilly got shotgun. 'Cause she was a little soaked herself… Whatever, Jackson.

The whole ride was horrible. Not _one_ good thing about it. Miley was seriously so angry with me that she wouldn't even _look_ at me. I even tried to apologize, but then she would just lean over to the front seat and turn the volume on the radio up louder. _Overreacting much?_ I was really getting irritated with her (which I didn't think was possible), so I finally gave up.

She wouldn't even say goodbye to me when we got back to her house. Even Lilly and Jackson took the time to acknowledge each other's existence and _wave and say bye to each other!_ Which, like, _never_ happens! I was so upset I wanted to wilt like a rose and die. I would've gladly just admitted my freaking feelings for Miley straight to her face if I would've known that _not_ doing so would cause her to hate me so much. Oh, lord, I just thought of something – she's going to have fun with the break up tomorrow… she'll be calling me a 'jerk of an idiot' in front of the press and actually _meaning_ it… Crap.

Anyways, I was sulking home with Lilly, who was oddly not really saying much at all. I didn't want to talk about the Miley thing, so I just brought something random up.

"So you and Jackson are friends now?"

She seemed to almost trip on the sidewalk for some reason. "Er, uh, er, y-yeah. Is that weird or something?"

"Well, let's see. You only _always_ used to refer to him as a 'talking chimpanzee'."

She looked at me. "He's not that horrible of a chimpanzee actually if you talk to him. He bought me a slushie."

I was shocked. Jackson barely ever let me have anything free, even those ninety-nine cent fries at Rico's. "Um. Why?"

"I," She opened her mouth, then closed it again… thinking, I guess. "… don't know."

"Alright," I said, confused, and we walked the rest of the way back to my house in silence. We departed ways when we got there, and now, here I am, writing in you.

My life sucks so, _so_ bad. I wish sometimes it would just end.

The girl of my dreams hates me. Just because I said she wasn't sexy. Since when does my opinion even matter?

Wait.

_DOES MY OPINION SUDDENLY MATTER?!?!?!?!_

Oh. My – _YES!!!_

Sorry, Stupid, I'll write later!

I'm suddenly in a _way_ better mood, and I need to somehow chase Trent down and get him inside, then get online and see if Miley's on! I have _got_ to talk to her!

And I also need to erase the image of polka dot panties out of my mind. Really.

* * *

Oh, yay! Oliver's going to try and apologize for the millionth time. Miley does seem a big dramatic in this chapter, but she does overreact about a lot of things, so yeah. And wow, there was no mention of Jerk Rat in this entire chapter, I just realized. Cool. Haha. 

Anyways, reviews are kindly appreciated as always.


	12. Hotdogs

First of all, I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who gave me such kind reviews to my author's note. You guys really amaze me. I want to go out to each and every one of you and hug you all personally. Unfortunately, I'm stuck in the middle of a few cornfields, away from any civilized human existence, so no hugs for you. Sorry!

However, I'm thanking you all with CHAPTER TWELVE! At long last! I refuse to abandon this story; it's way too much fun to write. I was in a depressed mood when I wrote this, weirdly enough, and it kind of brightened my day a little. I kinda forgot how much fun it is to write as a lovesick Oliver, bwaha.

Oh, and I'm going to let you in on a little secret. I'm planning on only seven to nine more chapters of this story. "Pity Prom Date" is on temporary hiatus until this is completed. It might be on hiatus longer than that, I'm not sure.

Anyways, thanks again for everyone's support! I love you all!

And without further ado, the (maybe sucky) Chapter Twelve!

_Disclaimer_: No.

* * *

**  
DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER TWELVE: HOTDOGS

* * *

**Saturday, December 22nd, 7:21 p.m., bedroom.**

Dear Stupid,

I want a hotdog. Really bad.

But that's not important.

Well, okay, it is, my stomach argues, but not as important as Miley. Duh.

So at first, I was more than afraid to IM her when I saw her name on my buddy list. It was at the top. It has been since I've discovered all these feelings I have for her. And even though she's my best friend, I still haven't IM'd her since I've come to dealing with the idea that I _do_ have feelings for her that are of the more-than-friendship variety. I don't know really. I guess I'm just a nervous piece of chicken. Wow. That analogy sucked. I apologize.

Anyways, after I played the IM name staring game for five minutes and became pretty conscious of the fact that she had no intention of IMing me first, I boldly clicked her screen name and typed.

**O0okenator**: hey

I know. I might as well win an award for most cowardly greeting ever.

She didn't respond for like two minutes. It was aggravating really because no one else was online for me to talk to while I sat there in my computer chair ready to pee my pants in anticipation of what she might say back.

Then I noticed another screen name on my buddy list. This person was currently away. Wanna know his away message?

**_"phone with the beautiful miley stewart"_**

Because of his existence, Miley took a full two minutes to reply with this exciting reply --

**singy0urheart0ut**: hi

If you have as sucky luck with girls as I do, you would know that 'hi' is short for "I hate you, you freaking asshole, go away and leave me alone and drown yourself in the ocean while you're at it, you stupid idiot".

I tried to remain calm.

**O0okenator**: so on a scale from 1-100 how much do you hate me:)

Way to be subtle, stupid. Not you, Stupid. Me stupid. 'Cause I am. You just happened to be named Stupid. Sorry about that by the way… I really should've given you a better name. Like Richard. Oh, wait, no. 'Cause then I'd have to call you Dick. And my immature childhood self would be tickled a little and I'd burst out laughing anytime I'd say something like, "Dear Dick". Hahahahaha. I even laughed then. Man, I'm pathetic.

ANYWAYS. Back to Miley, the wonderful woman of my dreams!

**singy0urheart0ut**: i'd have to say like in the 82 ish area

**O0okenator**: 82!!! i thought you'd only be like at the most in the 20's!!!

**singy0urheart0ut**: haha i'm only kidding stupid

(Meaning ME, not you again, Stupid. Miley _definitely_ doesn't know you exist. Thank the Lord. Or else she might not ever talk to me again. Oh my God. Lilly better be keeping her mouth shut!!!)

**singy0urheart0ut**: i don't hate you oliver

**singy0urheart0ut**: you're being dumb

**O0okenator**: and you say you DON'T hate me

**singy0urheart0ut**: of coourse not. :D

AH, YES! A SMILEY! Smilies signify such amazing things in arguments if you didn't know. It's the stimulator to a make-up! Unfortunately, not a make-out as I wish.

**O0okenator**: haha

**O0okenator**: anyway i just wanted to say i'm sorry for… well you know. i've never had good luck at complimenting the ladies

**singy0urheart0ut**: its fine oliver really

**singy0urheart0ut**: i overreacted. it was stupid. i mean we both know i'm sexy after all haha

**O0okenator**: you sure?

**O0okenator**: and yes definitely.

I didn't mean to press enter. I swear. Because now I'm kinda struggling with the idea of hanging myself.

**O0okenator**: er

**O0okenator**: yes. you're sexy miley

**O0okenator**: uhhhhhhh yes.

What I really wanted to say, though, was, "Kill me, please?"

**singy0urheart0ut**: you aint so bad yourself cowboy

YOU HEAR THAT! I am a "_cowboy"_. And "I'm not so bad". So that means I am NOT unattractive to Miley. I am a handsome cowboy ready to ride her off into the sunset.

Oh my God. I mean _with a HORSE_. Oh, God, I'm making it worse, guh-ross. I meant RIDING THE HORSE WITH MILEY! THERE! Not that I wouldn't ride her – LORD, I'll shut up now.

BUT BACK TO MY _COMPLETELY INNOCENT_ STORY HERE. I was definitely fishing for any kind of compliment from Miley, so even though I do believe I am a handsome "cowboy", it's way nice to hear this from Miley. So I began to "fish" some more.

**O0okenator**: i think you've forgotten who you're talking to

**singy0urheart0ut**: nah.

**singy0urheart0ut**: you're that hottie new skater boy harry olive right? i should probably follow the trend and drool over your existence

Hottie. Me. A hottie. In Miley's eyes. Or wait, maybe that's just Harry Olive, the light-brown haired skater boy.

**O0okenator**: girls are drooling over my existence?!?

**singy0urheart0ut**: well.. no hahaha

My hopes and dreams were crushed.

**O0okenator**: at least i felt good about myself for a few seconds

**singy0urheart0ut**: oh shut up harry youre not ugly

**O0kenator**: stop calling me harry. it makes me feel like a gorilla

Truly, it kind of does. BUT STILL! Miley says I am "not ugly". Therefore, I am not ugly. Well, obviously, but like… What does that mean I am? Cute? Hot? Drop dead gorgeous? Amazingly, Want-to-Pounce-Upon-You Sexy?!

Well, it could also mean I'm hideous.

But… I don't want Miley to think I'm hideous. She should pounce upon my sexiness. Many, many times.

**singy0urheart0ut**: haha wow oliver

**singy0urheart0ut**: but hey i g2g. jake's getting mad cause youre distracting me

WHAT THE CRAP.

I hate that stupid, stupid trashcan of worms.

Worm Trashcan. I like that one, Stupid. That's going to be his new nickname, I've decided.

But anyways, he should get mad. Get jealous, Worm Trashcan. Get mad. Break her heart. Well, okay, no, don't break her heart because I would never wish for Miley's unhappiness… but he almost cheated on her! With herself, but still! Dump her and lead her into my FAITHFUL un-slimy arms! She will realize my love for her is truer than the fact she is Hannah Montana (okay, that sucked, but work with me). And ta-da, the fairytale will have a beautiful happy ending!

Anyways, I was sad to see her go.

**O0okenator**: alright. bye. love you.

Excuse my French, but holy freaking shit. I did NOT just type that. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO.

YES:)

I MEAN NO!!!!!!!!

**singy0urheart0ut**: aw. love you 2 ollie

LOVE YOU, TOO, OLLIE? OLLIE?!

I think I'm changing my name to Ollie.

Lilly made it sound evil. But this… this is like, heavenly. LOVE! LOVE! Say it again, sweet angel of music!!!! (Shut up. The subject of Miley allows me to cross the unmanly line, all right?)

Well, of course, she meant it friendship-wise, but STILL! LOVE! She LOVES me. HA HA HA. Suck on that, Worm Trashcan!

I'm feeling ballsy, oh dear.

**O0okenator**: goodnight beautiful :)

SHIT. AGAIN.

**singy0urheart0ut has just signed off. singy0urheart0ut is unable to receive your message.**

Shoot.

I suck at life. More than usual.

What the crap… Trolliver is screaming bloody murder downstairs. Apparently he has seen a spider. Hm… That's too bad. Ah well. I hate spiders. It can stay down there and eat him up in a delicious Trent Steak for all I care, as long as my ears don't have to go through any more of this suffering.

Oh, wait, no, my mistake, no spider. But he's singing.

"SPIDERMAAAN! SPIIIIDERMAN!!!"

Seriously. Why?

And steak. This reminds me. I'm hungry and want a hotdog. Ta-ta until tomorrow, Stupid.

**Sunday, December 23****rd, too lazy to look at the clock… And Rico's.**

I was enforced by the law to go out to lunch today with Mom and Trent.

And like, I'm not over exaggerating. My mom got the handcuffs out and all. Right along with her Man Voice.

"OLIVER OSCAR OKEN! YOU ARE GOING OUT TO EAT WITH YOUR FAMILY TODAY OR IT'S A DAY AT PRISON FOR YOU, MISTER!"

Pretty much my alarm clock this morning.

And yeah. It was the worst lunch ever. We went to this outside and inside café place called Wanda's. We ate outside for some reason… and sorry, I have to get this out here, but who in their right mind names a kid Wanda in the first place??? Okay, I'm done.

So not only was it at a crazy-named place like Wanda's, but my grilled cheese tasted like grilled suckiest-sandwich-on-earth. And I can't forget to mention Trolliver was driving me freaking crazy.

"WHERE'S LIIIIILLLLLLY?" he'd scream. Or say. I don't know the difference anymore.

"I DON'T KNOOOOOW," I'd yell back, and then he'd scream some more and Mom would threaten me with a fork.

However, this was only the least of my problems.

Who showed up at Wanda's?

The sweet angel of music….

Accompanied by the evil demon of garbage.

They were hooked at the stupid hands. Well, Miley's hands aren't stupid, Stupid. They're actually quite nice and soft. Worm Trashcan doesn't know how lucky he is.

Anyways, I wanted to get out some cleaning spray and spray it at his hand, but unfortunately, the sight of them together was causing a vomiting reflex. Or maybe it was just the grilled cheese since it tasted so horrible.

"Isn't that your friend Miley?" Mom said like the idiotic airhead she is.

"No. It's Bugs Bunny."

Where Bugs Bunny came from, I'll never know.

Oh wait. Trent watched Looney Toons before bed last night. And screamed "WHAT'S UP, DOC?!?" in my ear a couple thousand times.

"MILLY! MILLY!"

For some reason, Trent is incapable of saying Miley, so he changes it to Lilly's name with an 'M'. And he knows how to say Lilly's name, believe me. He's like, obsessed with her or something.

But Miley unfortunately heard the little brat and decided to drag Jake along with her over to our table. She politely greeted my mom and Trolliver (who stuck his tongue out at her because he informed us that, "LILLY IS BETTER!!!!!").

Worm Trashcan stood there awkwardly.

I handled the knife from my order in my hand threateningly. I don't think anyone noticed. Or if they did, they just weren't scared of a butter knife.

"Hey Oliver," Miley said brightly, looking beautiful as ever with a pearly white smile and stick-straight dark brown hair.

"Hey Miley," I said back, smiling for a whole ten seconds until I remembered my worst enemy had her at the hand still. So then I glared at him and said, "Oh. Hi," in my meanest voice possible.

He went, "Hi." It's amazing he can even make a nice word such as that so disgusting.

So then Miley and I kind of conversed while Mom struggled to keep Trent in his seat. I can't really remember what we even talked about, but I somehow made her laugh quite a bit, which pissed off Jake a little because he said very irritably, "Well, I made us reservations inside, _Miles_, let's go."

_Miles._ HA. Way to dangle her in front of me, you stupid garbage weasel.

"Alright. See you… later, Oliver," Miley said as she walked away, waving her free hand, and also putting emphasis on the 'later'. Which reminded me why the day was going to get worse. We're breaking up tonight. Well, Harry and Hannah are anyways. Harrannah is going to be over. It's so depressing to think about it.

Then I finally got to go home. And now here I am at Rico's, contemplating tonight.

Um, Lilly just came up here to order a hotdog from Jackson.

It was weird.

Not like, Lilly-doesn't-eat-hotdogs-weird, 'cause she does. Maybe more than me. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm the champ at those things.

But I mean weird as in… Well, this conversation between Jackson and Lilly.

Lilly: (stuttering?) H-h-hey Jackson.

Jackson: Er, hi.

Lilly: Can you, uh, get me a hotdog, please?

Jackson: One?

Lilly: Um… no. No, wait, yes. Just one.

Jackson: Okay, one hotdog.

Lilly: Er, I changed my mind. I want two.

Jackson: Okay, two hotdogs.

Lilly: NEVERMIND. ONE.

Jackson: Make up your mind, woman!

Lilly: I can't! I'm distracted!

Jackson: By WHAT?!

Lilly: Yo—ukuleles.

Me: (butting in) Um, are you crazy? I don't hear any ukuleles.

Lilly: WELL I DO! NOW GIMME A HOTDOG.

Jackson: (frightened beyond all belief, I think) … just one?

Lilly: YES!!!!

Me: Calm down, Lilly. It's just a hotdog!

Lilly: (punches my arm really hard)

Me: Ouch.

Seriously. Girls have mood swings way too easily.

And crap. I gotta go. Jackson just informed me it is five 'o'clock, which means I have to go home and get ready and change into my Harry Olive disguise. The CD signing is in like two hours. I have to look nice.

And pounce-upon-my-sexiness sexy.

Wait.

Why is Miley's dad here?

And more importantly, why's he walking over to… me?

--

Yay. I finally updated. Go celebrate. Next chap won't be for awhile, folks, I apologize in advance. School just has me so busy with writing essays all the time that it's hard to put in some hours on creative fiction. But, do review! The more reviews, perhaps the sooner I'll update:)


	13. Bears

Chapter Thirteen! It sucks in the funny department, but it gives a MAJOR twist of events… You won't expect it. Like, wow, Oliver is a total IDIOT. Everything is just getting fun... bwaha.

Btw, I have a question. There are only seven more chapters after this one, and I want an opinion. Should I continue with a sequel or have it end at Chapter Twenty? Just tell me what you think. Thanks.

Disclaimer: still, NOOOOOPE.

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BEARS

* * *

**  
Sunday, December 23****rd****, Hannah Montana trailer, 3 FREAKING A.M.!!!!!**

Oh. My. God.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

For God's freaking sake.

Really!!!!!!

The things I put up with in my life!!!

I don't understand how famous people can sleep everyday in a congested area such as this stupid trailer. You'd think after a freaking SUPER stressful and emotional day, I'd be able to sleep. But nah. That'd be too easy, right, God? Old buddy, old pal?!?!? I BET YOU ARE JUST LAAAAUGHING IT UP UP THERE IN YOUR BIG OLD CLOUD!! While I sit here and lay on a small blue couch, writing this with the help of a flashlight, and contemplating the idea of killing myself.

Unfortunately, Stupid, the only items available around me to do such a thing with are Kleenex, a snoring Lilly Truscott (which, I'm going to be honest, sounds nothing like snoring actually. I'm beginning to think that Lilly has eaten a bear.), a couple of flashlights, a few hotdogs, and my light-brown haired wig.

The only way I could possibly kill myself would be to:

a) Hang myself with Kleenex, which would never work because Kleenex can barely take the task of boogers, let alone holding up my "bubble butt" self, as Lilly would say.  
b) Taunt the bear out of Lilly's stomach with the hotdogs, and then have it maul me.  
c) With my wig… well, I haven't yet come up with a way for it to be the death of me except that it's caused me to WANT to kill myself today.  
d) I guess I could gauge my eyes out with this pen. But then there's a chance I'd live. And then I'd be blind. So… No.

It's three in the morning and I want to sleep. Clearly I cannot, due to the fact that Lilly did not fully chew up the bear she's eaten, as its voice box is obviously still in tact, and is producing the vile sound that it is. And it's not like if it were actually bear-free in here, I'd be able to sleep anyways. I have a killer amount of idiotic POOP on my mind. POOP!

So. Earlier today, Miley's dad comes a'running. Like, seriously. I've never seen the man move so fast in my life. Kinda funny really. I was frozen there on my stool at Rico's. And Lilly was sitting there next to me, eating her stupid hotdog as noisily as possible for some god-awful reason. Oh, and Jackson was in the back of Rico's or something… I think. Oh who knows! It wouldn't surprise me if he were swimming his way through a pool of ice cream.

That was a horrible example. I'm pretty sure we'd all swim in a pool of ice cream if we had the chance, Stupid. At least I would. Miley would maybe join. No, wait, she WOULD. I'd throw her into some Neapolitan ice cream if I had to… And then, we'd kiss underwater—well, er, ice cream… _undericecream?_—and life would be complete.

I'm loving how I cannot keep Miley out of one simple journal entry, Stupid.

So I'm sitting there like a weirdo in my stool, not sure if I should run up to meet Mr. Stewart or not. Half of me wanted to, being that he is the father of the girl I'm hopelessly in lo-… like with, but the other half of me was like (some sort of Lilly personality, really), "No, Oliver, if you move your lazy bubble butt, you're going to puke up a hotdog all over him. And then you will never date Miley. So stay."

So I stayed because of the logic and shoved the last bit of my hotdog into my mouth, probably achieving the image of a person with a balloon shoved into the right side of his mouth… Or maybe just a hamster stuffing his cheeks with seeds? I seriously suck at imagery.

Anyways, Mr. Stewart approached me (A.K.A. the human hamster) panting, because, well, it's probably what you do when you are as old as he is and just got done giving your wobbly old man legs their good once a year exercise.

Oh God, Stupid. I do hope he never sees this.

IT WAS SARCASM, MR. STEWART!! AAHAHAHAHAHAHA. I'M FUNNY!

Er, right.

So Mr. Stewart went, "Oliver!"

And I went rather boldly, "Mrrrff Sthoort!"

Stupid hotdog.

"Chew, swallow, and then talk, boy," he said, shaking his head in what I'm guessing was disbelief. I really don't blame him either. Man, with my idiot-ness, I'm never going to gain his approval of dating his daughter. Not that she'd ever date me, but you know, a boy can dream, right? MULTIPLE dreams? That's okay, too, right…?

Well, yeah, so I did as I was told. "Er, Mr. Stewart!"

"I've been lookin' for you and Lilly everywhere!"

This obviously wasn't true. Since apparently Rico's is not part of 'everywhere'. But I didn't say that to my future father-in-law. Er…

Lilly finally turned around at the sound of her name. There was ketchup all over the lower half of her face. I struggled not to laugh, or stare at it, but it was all I could really look at. It was distracting me a lot. She said something to Mr. Stewart, who knows what really because that ketchup was seriously the only thing keeping my attention even on her face.

Holy crap. That sounded REALLY mean. I didn't mean that Lilly's ugly. Because, quite frankly, she's not at all. And, and… You know what, I'll just go cross that last sentence in the last paragraph out and save me from dissing my best friends when I don't mean to.

However, Mr. Stewart must be like, blind or something, because he didn't even act like there was something as funny as slobs of ketchup on Lilly's chin. He just said, very calmly, when I'm basically dying on the inside, "We need you guys to get to the limo back home pronto. They scheduled the CD signing early."

"Can I come, daddy?" Jackson spoke up in his twang, his head popping up behind the counter like a jack-in-the-box.

More like Jackson-in-the-box.

HAHAHA. I kill myself.

Not really. Although with Lilly's current snoring volume increasing to a level of even more annoying… taunting that stupid grizzly bear out of her throat is started to sound pretty cool.

Back to the story.

"You're working, though," Lilly replied to Jackson, swiveling herself around in her stool to face him.

Jackson stared at her oddly for a brief second, and I watched as his mouth twitched and opened, unleashing this wild hyena type laugh.

I joined and we became hyenas together.

"WHAT IS SO FUNNY?!" Lilly screamed at us like we were deaf. I'm kind of surprised we aren't now.

"I could've sworn I put the ketchup on the _hotdog_, Lilly, not your face," Jackson said simply as soon as our laughing fit subsided.

She turned bright red. Maybe of anger. I don't know. But embarrassment makes me feel better about myself for some reason. And she proceeded to hastily grab a napkin, wiping it all over her face, which caused Jackson to laugh at her some more, and then she stuffed said-napkin into his open mouth to shut him up. It was pretty funny, I'll say, Stupid. Even Mr. Stewart couldn't help but chuckle a bit.

So eventually Jackson explained to us that he was getting off work in about ten minutes, so Mr. Stewart was all like, "Fine, fine, you can come," and stuff, which for some reason, set off some new emotion in Lilly, who decided to start SKIPPING back to Miley's house. SKIPPING! Like the freaking tooth fairy or something! So the tooth fairy flies! It made sense when I wrote it! UGH! I need sleep. STUPID TOOTH FAIRY LILLY AND HER GRIZZLY BEAR!

Um, moving on.

So after we got all ready and stuff at Miley's, and got into our disguises, we finally met Miley… er, Hannah Montana in her limo.

She smiled at me in slow motion, I swear, and I was transfixed by it, and I wanted to take her by the hand and do a happy dance with her, like she wanted in freshman year. Then she opened her mouth and said,

_"Jake's gonna be there tonight."_

I shot myself with an internal bullet.

It was then I decided the following.

It's a sick form of torture to be entranced by her smile, knowing that she is only smiling for a worm-rat by the name of Jake Ryan, not you, her donut of a best friend, who has stupidly admitted ALOUD to the fact that she has brought sexy back.

Sorta depressing.

But I went, "Oh, cool."

Oh cool. OH COOL?! Am I SERIOUS?! I can't even believe I said that! It is SO not cool! It's like… so not cool that it's twelve-billion degrees temperature wise! HELL TEMPERATURE! Even Lilly, er, Lola at this point in time, gave me this sad, pathetic look that obviously had, "OLIVER LOVES MILEY WHO LOVES JERK RAT" written all over it. I'm surprised Miley wasn't like, _"Hey Lola, what's that on your face? Wait, Oliver loves me?"_

Well. I close-to-love her. I mean, I love her as a friend. I only LIKE her as something more… I don't think I'm making any sense either, Stupid. Sorry.

On the way to the library in Malibu, Miley went over the whole break-up thing with me. These were the rules apparently:

1. Harry Olive is to arrive through the entrance doors with Hannah Montana, arm around her waist. I say… alrighty then!!!! Bwaha.  
2. We take a table at the front of the library, and I sit next to her, and HOLD HER HAND in clear view. YES AGAIN!!  
3. After Hannah Montana signs a few hundred (yes, you read that right) CD's, she is going to stand up and announce our break-up. I will stand up with her and say, "Hannah and I have decided that taking a risk on the best friend relationship complicates our lives even more, and we will go back to being the best of friends." Seriously. Re-read that. That basically tells me that Miley will never date me!!! Yet she is TORTURING ME by making me have an arm two inches away from touching her BUTT, and then getting to HOLD HER BEAUTIFUL HAND for like… a million years! Oh, wait, AFTER I say that line, I'm supposed to hug her "friendishly". FRIENDISHLY! Like, why would she suggest that when I've only been capable of hugging her FRIENDISHLY. I would never hug her romantically! Well, I mean, HECK YES I would, but the chance doesn't seem to be happening… Ugh.  
4. We will leave the library WITHOUT my arm around her waist, or just me not touching her in any way at all. Sadness.

However, when we got to the library, absolutely NOTHING went according to plan.

When we exited the limo, I about had a seizure because there were like thirty billion cameras being shoved into my face, and the flashing lights were dazing me and I honestly don't know how I managed to even see Miley and put my arm around her waist. I guess it was just the fact that I wanted to do it so badly. And when I did, I felt very macho. I puffed my chest out and I really hoped I was on T.V., just so America could see how perfect we are for each other.

Miley… Hannah suddenly turned to me, and our faces were MAYBE a centimeter apart. If even! **TORTUROUS WOMAN!** I could even feel myself blushing.

She whispered, "Pull me closer."

'_Pull her closer?'_ I thought awkwardly. If I were to pull her any closer, we would KISS. _ON NATIONAL TELEVISION_. My first kiss with Miley and everyone would see it! Even her dad! Who would blatantly take me by the neck and break my head off most likely!

So I said, extremely loudly and slowly, "What? You want us to kiss?"

This woman reporter person appeared to have heard it. She was ugly. Really, she was. As mean as it sounds, she was hideous. She had ugly ratty brown hair and a big, fat, ugly nose. And her personality was quite ugly as well. She was like, "Harannah kiss?! The Rockstar Inquirer would LOVE to be the first place to capture this event!!" And started snapping pictures so fast with a million bright lights that I was so stunned I had no clue what had really happened, except maybe that we were being abducted by aliens, so…

I did the first thing I could think of. It was kinda a heroic notion if we really HAD been abducted by aliens… but we weren't… but what I did was squeeze Miley closer to me and take off running to the library like a jackrabbit.

"HARRY!" the girl of my dreams yelled at me as we ran. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

"SAVING YOUR LIFE!" I screamed back and slammed open the library doors.

When we got in there, about a million little girls all screeched and burned my eardrums off. It scared me so bad that I screamed, too, and started running out the library again. Miley grabbed my arm and spun me back in. "Harry, dear," she said through an EXTREMELY forced smile, "Why don't we take a seat?"

I glanced over at the table we were supposed to sit at. Three girls were jumping up and down like they were on pogo sticks. It was very, very, very scary. Times three.

"B-b-but," I began in a stutter, when suddenly, the entrance doors were thrown open again, and in walked a tornado of bright pink and blue colors. Well, okay, Lilly in a neon pink wig.

"LOLA LUFTNAGLE IS IN THE HOOOOUSE!" shouted the tornado, who then realized the room went silent so that everyone was watching her, and slapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment.

"Sweet nibblets," I heard Miley say, very embarrassedly. "Lola, I think you need to fix your hair."

Lilly gave her a confused expression (I think I did, too, because well, Lilly has a wig on…?). I think we both figured out what Miley meant at the same time because the moment I figured out it was an excuse to get her out of the embarrassing situation, Lilly took off running down the hallway to the bathroom. To some people, it probably looked like she had to go _bad_.

So Miley pulled me over to the table, and we took our seats. I sat nervously in my chair, waiting for Miley to place her hand on the table for me to hold onto. I couldn't wait. Neither could my hand I guess. It was shaking like it was out in the snow without a glove. I think it knows that Miley's hand is its soul mate or something. So when her hand didn't appear after the first five autographs, I got some weird bunch of courage and grabbed it under the table. I felt really elated then, and without my consent, my hand grew a brain and started swinging it back and forth like a little boy walking with his mommy.

"What are you doing?" she whispered through a smile as she signed a little girl's CD.

"I… don't know," I answered. Very honestly, too. "Following the rules? We are dating, right?"

She didn't reply because this little blonde haired girl had shyly walked up to the table.

"Hello there, sweetie, what's your name?" Miley asked as she took the CD from her hand.

"Lexie," she squeaked out.

Miley signed a giant "To Lexie, Love, Hannah Montana" on the CD and handed it back, expecting the girl to walk away. Well, that's what I expected anyways, Stupid, but the next thing stunned me.

Lexie walked over so that she was straight across from me and held out the CD. "Can I have your autograph, too, Mr. Harry?"

I sat upright in my chair and looked over at Miley, not sure how to respond to the small girl.

"Uhh, go ahead, honey," Miley stated with a giant amount of uncomfortable-ness in her voice. I guess 'cause she called me honey. But I liked it. She should call me pet-names everyday. Even if it's something an unoriginal as "honey".

"Um, sure," I said and took the CD. I scribbled a hasty "Oliver" onto it, about to add my last name before Miley nudged me with her free hand. I stared at her.

"_Harry Olive_," she said my whole name, and very slowly, for some reason. "Make sure she can read it."

"It's readable to me," I replied, confused.

"But _Harry Olive_," she was acting like I was retarded. "You forgot your first name."

Miley was batting her eyelashes at me. Mmm. Beautiful.

Er.

"Um, no I didn't, Hannah. It says Olive—" I stopped in realization. "OH! SILLY ME!" I hastily wrote "Harry" above the "Oliver", and turned the "r" into an exclamation point. That's how HARRY OLIVE should be said anyways. HARRY OLIVE!!! Like it's amazing. 'Cause, well, I am. Bwaha.

The rest of the CD signing went by quickly. And suddenly, I knew it was time for Miley to make the big announcement. I knew this because she abruptly let go of my hand and stood up. I wanted to cry like a baby who just lost his giant cherry flavored lollipop.

"Attention everyone, I have something important to say."

I didn't really know what to do, I sort of forgot, so I stood up there next to her.

"Harry and I… we've decided to…"

When she didn't finish, I got kinda worried. So did my palms. They, like, sweated profusely. It was disgusting.

Then, I saw what she was looking at.

**JERK FREAKING RAT.**

He was standing there, smiling retardedly like the retard he actually is, and a bouquet in hand. No doubt he got all those flowers out of the garbage can. Since you know, that's where he lives after all.

So they're white roses. Big deal.

I'd buy her rainbow roses if I could!!!!!!!!

But Miley… I guess she thought they were a big deal because she was frozen. Like Austin Powers. Except… not naked… unfortunately. Er. SHUTTING UP.

I didn't know what to do. Miley had said he was going to be there, but she forgot to figure out what to do about the breaking up thing. I was the only reason she hadn't let him cheat on her… with her… It does make sense, OKAY?!

He walked up to us. I was dying. I wanted to punch him in the face. How could ANYONE do this to Miley?!?? If I were hers, oh man, I'd treat her perfectly. And this Jake thing was just pissing me off.

I swung a protective arm around Miley's waist, without any clue of what I was doing. She jumped a bit at the touch.

Jake looked generally confused.

And the next thing you know, I'm declaring the first thing I could think of on National Television, in front of the entire freaking world,

_"Hannah and I have decided to get married."_

I immediately wanted Worm Trashcan to produce a gun out of the bouquet and shoot me. Because…

**WHAT. THE. HELL. DID. I. JUST. SAY???????**

I watched Jake drop the bouquet.

Mr. Stewart and Jackson spat out some punch, both at the same comedic time.

And Miley beside me?

Well. Basically. She fainted.

And then—crap, I gotta stop writing. My flashlight is dying and I can barely make sense of what I'm writing. I promise, though, Stupid, I will give you the lowdown tomorrow of all the rest of what happened.

My life is over, Stupid.

Again.

**So very, very over.**

**

* * *

DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!!**

Stupid, stupid Oliver. He's such a donut... how are they gonna get out of this one? Mwahaha. I HATE to leave you in suspense.. but... wait, no I don't. It's fun. I'm evil. So review, and I'll become less evil and update ASAP. MUCH LOOOVE... bwaha. 


	14. Crackhead

I know. I KNOW, okay? I haven't updated in like months. And I'm deeply sorry for all of my 'fans' that I guess I have… especially to the ones that have been PM'ing me and begging for an update. Well, to put it short, I don't have that good of an excuse except I've had my school's play practices like crazy… I got the part of Ursula in the play Bye Bye Birdie if anyone knows who/what that is. YAY ME. I'm proud of myself.

Um, someone asked about my boy situation, I believe? My ex… I won't talk about it. But my best friend… the guy, you know? Welllll, he finally broke up with his girlfriend, and when he was visiting last week, we went to the movies just to hang out, and ended up awkwardly kissing and it was so freaking cute, but I don't think we'll be able to date cause of distance. It's sad. He's a total Oliver Oken. And we all want Olivers. Or at least Mitchel Mussos. Bwahaha.

Er, anyways, here's the long awaited new chapter. I don't think it's that great, but I needed to update so bad. I've seen some Oliver stories around here… and I got jealous of the attention people were getting. And I didn't even think they were that great. Boooo.

So let's hope you all still love me!

(P.S. I'm making it that Oliver's parents are divorced... no idea if that's true... Sorry.)

* * *

DEAR STUPID  
CHAPTER FOURTEEN**: CRACKHEAD

* * *

Monday, December 24****th****, My Room, 2:30 p.m.**

Dear Stupid,

MTV called Miley this morning.

They want her and I to be on "Engaged and Underage".

Dear God. (No, that doesn't mean I renamed you, Stupid. No offense. God's a lot bigger than a little notebook like you. Again, no offense. He's just really big and stuff.)

I vomit on this idea. Everywhere on it. I _COVER_ IT IN MY THROW-UP!!!!

Er. Lilly's here, and she just looked at that last bit. She said, "I cover _you_ in my throw-up, Oliver. Honestly. You are an idiot deserving of my upchuck."

Which is kind of mean in my opinion. I don't think anyone deserves to be covered in Lilly's upchuck.

Except maybe Jerk Rat… but whatever, he kinda already is covered in upchuck, but not Lilly's… I don't think…

I said to Lilly, "I'm not an idiot." Lie. I totally am.

Lilly goes, "Well, I guess you finally get your dream come true."

I say, "What?"

And she says all dramatically, clasping her hands together, and completely googly-eyed, "You are gonna be Mr. Hannah Montana at long last!!!" And she just ran out of the room, probably because I am about to shove my pencil here down her throat. But then again, Stupid, if I did that, you wouldn't know how the rest of yesterday played out. Until I got another pencil or pen, that is… but yeah.

It sucked. That's how to describe it in a sentence. It. SUCKED. Yes. Giant vacuum cleaner suckage actually. Well, really, more like BLACK HOLE SUCKAGE!!! Yeah!

Since Miley was passed out from my nationwide proposal, the press leapt on top of me, and that little Lexie girl from earlier was all screaming and waving her CD, like, "I GOT HANNAH MONTANA'S HUSBAND'S AUTOGRAPH!!!!" and stuff.

I didn't know what to do.

Jake was standing there like he was gonna turn into a nasty version of the Hulk and rip my head off my neck. So was Miley's dad.

So, due to my amazingness, I fainted, too.

Woke up in the Hannah Montana trailer. Lilly was staring down into my face, so I got my pants scared off and about passed out again.

She slapped my face to a burning degree. In fact, ow, it still hurts.

Lilly's back in here. She wants to write something, hold on.

IT BETTER HAVE HURT YOU DONUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

… Okay, and here I thought she was actually writing something meaningful cause it took her so long to write. I guess she was just perfecting the hearts she used as exclamation points, but whatever.

Anyways, so Lilly said to me last night, "You are seriously OUT OF YOUR MIND!"

I was very much offended. "No, I'm not. That phrase makes no logical sense," I said.

"Says the boy who calls Jake Ryan Jerk Garbage," she replied. Okay, that's it, I'm switching to script form.

Me: Shut up, he is a wormy pile of worm dung, and you know it.

Lilly: I'm going to pretend you didn't honestly just say that, and hit you again.

Me: What do you mean hi-(is hit) OW! What was that for?!

Lilly: For ruining Hannah Montana's career!

Me: HEY! You can't tell me the press actually bought that marriage crap!

Lilly: Oh, but I can, dumb one.

Me: Dumb one?!

Lilly: Yes! Dumb one!

Me: You are unbelievable.

Lilly: YOU'RE unbelievable! Marriage at sixteen! Who'd have thought THAT?

Me: Hey, at least it's not Jerk Garbage that she's marrying. Miley and I will be happy together!

Lilly: YOU ARE NOT MARRYING MILEY!

Me: … Oh yeah.

Lilly: I don't know what you are gonna do, boy.

Me: Go back to sleep?

Lilly: (hits me)

Me: (cry)

Lilly: (glare)

Jackson: (blink)

Oh yeah, Jackson walked in. I suck at script writing.

Jackson: You know, having you as a brother-in-law is gonna be kinda weird.

Lilly: JACKSON!

Jackson: Well, it is!! Not to mention that Hannah Montana will be, like, ruined. I mean, can you imagine – (imitating radio DJ voice) "Here's 'Life's What You Make It', the latest from Hannah _Olive!_"

Me: Hannah Olive isn't so bad. It could be worse, like, Hannah Ryan.

Lilly: OH MY GOD, you two are HOPELESS! I'm just going to sleep! (storms off)

Me and Jackson: (silence)

Me: So, where's Miley?

Jackson: She said something about jumping off a cliff. (shrug)

And then I went to her room in the trailer, and she refused to let me come in because I'm a "life-ruiner" I guess and she was "too busy hanging herself to care" or something. Her dad was sleeping, and I didn't want to wake him up because I wanted to postpone my death as much as possible soo…

Miley continued avoiding me the morning after… I don't know how I fell asleep. Lilly here doesn't think she snores. Isn't she funny! Ha, stupid grizzly bear.

I need to call Miley again. But Lilly says that knocking on her door six times, texting her thirteen times, and calling her twenty-eight times without her answering any of those things sounds obsessive. But I told her that the twenty-ninth time is the charm. She stuck her tongue out at me and walked out the door.

Oh great, I have basketball practice now. ON CHRISTMAS EVE!!! WHO DOES THIS?!?! CRACKHEAD COACH, CRACKHEAD COACH!

Oh, this also means I get to endure the worm-rat's face for a couple hours. And the Big Ham's. God still hates me. And it's CHRISTMAS EVE!!!!

Stupid, if you ever grow ligaments, do me a favor and grab a gun and pull the trigger while aiming at my temple. I really don't want to live at the moment.

* * *

**Monday, December 24****th****, My room again, 6:18 p.m.**

Dear Stupid,

I hate basketball. And Dr. Harms.

And the fact that I just realized again it's Christmas Eve and that I don't have a present for Miley. My own freaking fiancé!!! I am already proving to be the worst husband ever!! Our kids are gonna hate me like the way I sometimes feel about my dad, and then Miley and I will be divorced, which will suck because um, hello, I love her, and then our kids are gonna be like, "I wanna live with Mom because she's richer and gives sweet presents!" And then they'll be forced to spend holidays with me, and I'll have to endure extreme awkwardness when Miley and I meet up at some grocery store parking lot for her to give me the kids like Mom and Dad are gonna do tomorrow!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!

Er. Getting way ahead of myself.

So… about me hating basketball practice… I had to run way too much. I think Coach believes the more we run, the better our dribbling and shooting ability will become. Um, what crack he is smoking is beyond me, and I don't want any of it either if that is seriously what goes through his head about running. This is why you don't do drugs, Stupid. It will mess up your ability to think logically, like poor Mr. Crackhead Coach!

Well, I guess me doing drugs wouldn't do a whole lot of harm being I can't think logically for crap anyways. I mean, I just recently told America I'm getting married to Hannah Montana. I have problems without crack as it is.

Anyways, I had to run pretty fast at practice, too, because I didn't want to be the last one to the end of the gym. And I had to beat Jake every time. It's an ego thing, I guess.

But when we got a minute long break, I heard the worm say something very interesting to some of the other basketball players, including the Big Ham.

"So, you know how Hannah Montana's engaged?" he was saying, sweating like a very gross pig I'd like to kill. Weird how that's what he actually is!!!! Er… anyways, continuing with Jerk Rat's little rant, "Well, she won't be for long. I hear she's _way_ into me. I heard her talking on her cell phone the other night to one of her friends about how much she loves me."

It is truly disgusting to hear his voice anymore. And with him talking about how he wants to cheat on the girl of my dreams, yeah, his voice should probably just be made illegal before I puke myself to death.

"That's not what I heard," I muttered to myself.

"What'd you say, Oken?"

Oh yeah. The word 'shit' came to my mind, too.

"Ummmmm," I considered the possibilities of having Jake and all his senior friends tearing my face inside out. "Nothing."

"Nuh-uh," he walked over to stand in front of me. I leaned down on the bench and pretended to tie my shoe like a wimp... because Stupid, I really am, but shhh. Lilly would make fun of me for years if she found out! "You said Hannah Montana wasn't into me. How would _you_ know?"

"I'm her fiancé, you dirt bag; so get your wormy hands off of her!!!!!!! And stop trying to cheat on Miley with herself!!!!! For one, um, YOU ARE SCUM!!! Two, how about you do the world a favor and GO EAT SOME GARBAGE OUT OF THE BIN YOU CRAWLED OUT OF AND CHOKE ON A PEPSI CAN!!!!" I screamed.

…. Okay, I'm lying. But what I _really_ said was pretty good, too.

"Hannah Montana wouldn't go for someone who's already dating someone," I said slowly, already wanting to bite my tongue off so it would quit working. "She's better than that. And you know, talking about how you're trying to cheat on Miley right in front of me, her BEST friend, isn't a good idea."

He kicked my shin. Really hard. I'm icing it at the moment…. No, Stupid, don't make fun of me! I don't need a blankie or a pacifier. I'm not a baby!

"Don't be a girl, Oken."

I stood up at that, despite my shin throbbing the way it was, looking slightly up into his glaring eyes.

"How about you don't be an asshole to someone I care about, Ratface."

RATFACE. WHAT THE HELL! I _AM_ A GIRL! WHO SAYS THAT!!!!!!! Except me, obviously, but it's not supposed to leave you, Stupid! Lilly already knows. She's probably told Miley. But still! AHH!

And just as he was about to punch me in the face, Coach whistled and announced the end of practice. I thank the crack. For once.

I pretty much turned into Speedy Gonzales and got out of there and to Dr. Harms as fast as I could. As much as I hate seeing Dr. Harms, I figured nothing could be worse than my life at the moment, so what was it going to hurt, you know?

Oh, well, I'm wrong. The fact we actually had an appointment scheduled on Christmas Eve was bad enough, but almost the minute I walked in the door (all out of breath because I was running in case Jerk Rat would pop out from behind a corner or car or bush or something and bite me with his rat teeth and give me rabies), Dr. Harms shoved a piece of paper in my face.

"Well, hi to you, too," I said meanly, grasping it.

"Calm down, Oliver, I'm not the one who caused your bad day," she said all peacefully and crap like she actually wanted to be here on Christmas Eve.

"Oh really?" I spat. "For a psychiatrist, you're not very smart sometimes. I think you missed the class on NOT TO MAKE APPOINTMENTS ON CHRISTMAS EVE."

She looked at me from over her glasses. It pisses me off whenever she does this. It makes me wonder why she even has the little things on her nose when she can give just as snobby looks as she does without them.

"Read the paper, Oliver."

I grumbled at first, but then I looked at the paper.

'DYNAMITE DONUTS. HELP WANTED.'

YEAH – ARE. YOU. _KIDDING_. ME?!

"What the hell is this?!" I exclaimed.

"You need a job…and now a good mouth wash of soap."

I hate her.

"Dynamite DONUTS? Do you understand why I cannot work there! A donut shop?! DONUT? That's my freaking… name!"

"Donut Oken?"

"OH MY GOD!" I yelled. "You seriously don't understand!"

"It'd be a great opportunity for you. And don't you always say how low on cash you are?"

I'd bore you if I went into detail of the rest of our stupid pointless argument, but basically, psychiatrists have some Jedi mind trick crud that makes you agree to go to an interview at places with the title of DYNAMITE DONUTS.

Oh, crap. I have to be over at the wife's…okay, fiancé…FINE! MILEY'S house in like, ten minutes… We're exchanging gifts with Lilly…

Oh, that's right. I have nothing to give Miley. I have already ruined her whole life. Now I have no Christmas gift to give her. She will never love me in return after this.

Unless I give her that silver necklace I was going to give Becca a bazillion years ago, confess my love to her, and it's so sweet that she falls into my arms, and we kiss under the mistletoe, and live happily ever after.

Oh my God. That's it.

I have to do it.

Oh my God.

I'm going to tell Miley I love her.

In five minutes.

Lord help me.

* * *

AHHH. Such suspense! I wonder if Oliver is actually going to tell Miley he loves her? And how this whole marriage thing is going to play out… Bwahaha, Christmas Day entry will be coming asap. I can't say it'll be soon 'cause that'd be a lie. So for now, review and maybe you'll rush me along.


	15. Seizures

YAY for a filler chapter! Really, I honestly HATE this chapter so much… It has no point. But not all of Oliver's entries can have too much significance, and this would be one of those entries… But I feel like you guys deserve an update for being such great 'fans', haha. And I'm going to make the next chapter REALLY funny, I promise, because it's going to be about Oliver and his dad having a conversation… And well, that's all I can tell you.

So for right now, I apologize for this rubbish, and will try and make it up to all of you next chapter. Alrighty?

AAAAND I'm kinda not sure if I want to make a sequel to this now… It's getting harder to think of funny things, and I still have five more chapters of this, and I don't have too much time anymore, but there's always hope! … But depending on if there is a sequel or not, there is two different endings to this. Give me your thoughts on this, please, I'm torn.

But yeah, anyway… Chapter Fifteen!

**

* * *

DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Seizures

* * *

Monday, December 24**th****, My room yet again, 11:21 p.m.**

Dear Stupid,

I kissed Miley. She loves me now. Not Jerk Rat. She flushed him down the toilet because he is poop basically and deserves to live in the sewer's filth that he is. And now I'm happy because I'm with my Miley at last, for the rest of eternity!!!!!!!!

PSHHHH.

In my dreams. Actually… it _is_ in my dreams. Every night. Except it doesn't stop there if you know what I mean—oh my, sorry, Stupid, what the heck was I just doing? I'm blushing for some reason. This is ridiculous. I don't even feel comfortable telling my own journal about _those_ dreams. And I'm sure if anyone is reading this, they don't NEED to know anyways…

(AHEM!! LILLY!!!! Don't think I don't notice those little "Oliver and Miley sitting in a tree" with hearts doodles you make in the margins!!!!!! I don't know how you are getting a hold of my diary…journal…whatever! And circling the entry about you pouncing on me before shopping Saturday is NOT FUNNY!!!! And neither is the 'HAHAHA' next to it!)

But really. Naughty dreams don't need to be spoken of…or written about.

Ha. Ha. Ha… Haha? Laugh with me, Stupid!! LAUGH, I SAY! WHY AREN'T YOU LAUGHING?!

What you (Stupid) are probably thinking: Oh, I don't know, Oliver, maybe because I AM AN INANIMATE OBJECT AND YOU ARE SERIOUSLY NUTS!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously. This psychiatrist crap has not done me any good obviously. I've gotten worse. I've told America I'm marrying Hannah Montana, and unlike the time I claimed this when I was like thirteen when I was HM-obsessed, it actually appears to be true. I also keep talking to _you_, Stupid, about my problems, instead of the lunatic Dr. Harms, and I'm probably going to work at _Dynamite Donuts_… The creator of which obviously was under the influence of drugs when he named that place… Hugs, not drugs, Stupid. Hugs FROM MILEY ESPECIALLY not drugs.

Er…

My life is so over. After tonight in particular.

Nothing went according to plan. Absolutely nothing.

Except, one thing. But it wasn't part of my plan. And it was sort of good. Sort of.

So I arrived at Miley's, and the first thing I notice is there is the most miraculous smell in the world… besides strawberry Miley hair, of course….

It was gingerbread men, duh.

So I just waltzed up to the abandoned counter, placed my gifts onto it, and took a peek into the oven, and there they were. Looking absolutely delicious in these wonderful gingery, gumdrop button rows, I could've sworn one tempted me by winking at me, and I could just take a piece of that gingerbread and --

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Yes, that cold voice belonged to the girl I somehow think I'll achieve having as my soul mate someday. I am retarded.

I turned around, about peeing my underpanties in fright, and started doing this really weird thing I don't really ever do. I started _twitching_. LIKE I HAVE TERETS OR SOMETHING. I don't know! I sort of thought that maybe I was having a seizure, and Miley probably thought so, too, because she gave me this look that plainly said, "You're not having a seizure, are you, Oliver?!"

What came out of my seizuring face was, "You look beautiful tonight, Miley."

And for once, I'm not lying when I say that's what I said. _I actually said something right for once._ Because she really did look beautiful. She had a white t-shirt on, and red pajama pants, and bunny slippers, holding that Beary Bear of hers, and her hair… well, it sort of made me think a brown cat had just hacked a hairball on top of her head. I guess she wasn't expecting company. (Well, duh, Oliver.)

Of course, Miley always looks beautiful, that's a given, but I just thought I'd point it out to her for once. You know, instead of thinking it every second while she's talking to me when I should be paying attention, but thoughts that aren't probably angelic in the slightest (think the combination of strawberries and Miley-in-her-polka dot panties and bra) are circulating my brain… And as I think those thoughts, she thinks she is just INNOCENTLY twirling her hair, when she should clearly know by now that the drool falling from my lips means she is torturing me with every little twirl. But whatever.

Anyways, so after my compliment, this weird thing happened. The anger, like, erased from her face like magic. She blinked her greebluay eyes in confusion at me and just stood there for about five seconds.

"Really?" she asked with this small smile and took an even smaller step towards me.

I hate the question "really?" It has screwed me over so many times in the past, and you think the Big Guy up there would lend me a helping hand when it comes to answering this question for the nine hundredth time, but oh, no.

I said, "No."

AGAIN.

Just like the sexy thing!!!!

What is _wrong_ with me?!!

Damn you, my seizuring lips!!!!

She resumed her glare (big surprise) and crossed her arms and ran at me with a fist and stuffed animal raised like a bloody pitchfork or torch or just some kind of sword really.

I squeaked at this. It's just what you do when Medusa's coming at you with Beary the Bear as weaponry. I literally squeaked, too. No, no, not just a squeak like a Mickey Mouse squeak. I sounded like Mickey Mouse _on helium_. Then I ducked like Donald Duck…. Oh, never mind, I thought maybe I could get a Disney thing going… but I did duck, and she stripped on me…

Whoa. I totally meant tripped. Although, stripped would've been way nice.

Oh my God. Now I have seizuring hands that write naughty things!

DAMN MY SEIZURING BODY!

I swear, if I get a seizuring banana, I'm through with life.

Hm. Is seizuring even a word, Stupid?

Er, back to my story.

Miley TRIPPED on my head or something. Kind of more like she ran into it, then fell forward (while screaming at a very high note that now I can use against her when Miley thinks she can't hit a high note or something in a song) which knocked my head backwards, and my whole body naturally went with it, then Miley's… pumpkins… hurdled down onto my eyeballs.

It was very embarrassing.

I guess when Miley tried to get up, she fell back down so that her eyes were level with mine. Along with her nose, cheeks…. _lips_…

But instead of being like any other normal guy on planet Earth, I decided to _not_ kiss her at all.

I decided to _scream_, Stupid. SEIZURE SCREAM. Like, "AHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" in her face and everything!

So loudly, too, that she got frightened and screamed back.

And we're both, like, screaming at each other, about a millimeter from each other's faces, and someone else started screaming the second we did, too, and then _another_ scream except more high-pitched and feminine, then --

"What in tarnation -- ?"

That voice meant Miley's dad had just entered the kitchen. He did that funny scream he always does right after, and then was like, "WHOA! _Can't you kids at least wait until the honeymoon?!"_

This threw Miley off me almost immediately. I jumped to my feet as well, blushing like mad and noticing Lilly and Jackson were standing at the edge of the staircase across the room, meaning they were the two other screams I had heard.

Lilly busted up laughing the second she figured out what was going on. "Oliver?!" she said between laughs. "What are you _doing_ here?!"

What was everyone's deal with not knowing I was going to be over here?!

"Helloooo, Christmas Eve tradition!" I said in my defense, pointing to the three presents I had waiting on the kitchen counter. Oh, and Miley wasn't looking at me. She was all red-faced at the floor and stuff. I felt kinda bad.

Lilly's eyes got all excitedly wide at the presents, but Miley's dad interrupted her from taking even a step towards us, "Whoa now, how about you live up to _another_ kind of tradition and look up?"

"Why?" Lilly and Jackson (and me, too, actually, but whatever) chorused together, all looking to the ceiling.

Miley's head snapped up and her eyes, suddenly large and the white part showing more than usual, landed on the two of them. "NOOOOOO!" she yelled and started running again, but not for me, thank goodness…

Or maybe this is a bad thing? I do want her to run to me. Just not tackle me and squish me with pumpkins… Okay, that's a lie, too… jksdfjsf… Hm… I guess I just don't want her to want to scrape my eyeballs out? Geez. Awkward paragraph award goes to me again, Stupid. Sorry about that.

Apparently what had been hanging above the staircase was mistletoe. When Lilly and Jackson saw it, they both looked at each other in this weird blank look of horrification, yet… _something else_, too… and before things could get any more awkward, Miley tackled Lilly to the ground like Lilly was on some opposing team and had just caught a football.

Speaking of which, I think Miley should really think about Football.

Or maybe she just has seizures like me. Yet another reason why we are destined to be together, yep.

The two of them got to their feet and giggled a little.

Mr. Stewart just laughed it off like it was nothing and turned to me. I was a frozen human-sicle. I remembered yesterday… the marriage thing and whatnot… He was going to kill me, I just knew it. He had murderous eyes. And murderous arms. And murderous muscles…

… and _chest hair_.

And oh my God, there were about six different kinds of freaking _knives_ stabbed into this wooden cube block thing behind him. Oh my God. He was going to kill me.

"Hey there, boy. Miley tried calling you earlier," he said like a future murderer would, and I glanced at Miley in surprise. She snapped her gaze away from me and continued a staring contest with one of the bunny heads on her slippers. The knives also decided to be jerks and glint mockingly.

"But I guess you didn't get the message," Mr. Stewart continued.

"The butcher," I replied.

Everyone looked at me oddly. Even Miley. I looked back with an irritated expression, "Um, the butcher knife! It's the biggest one! I kinda want my death to be as quick as possible, you know!"

And after about three beats of silence, everyone started LAUGHING! LAUGHING!!!!!!! Like my death was _funny_!!! See if I come to THEIR funeral!

"I'm not gonna kill you," Miley's dad chuckled.

"Miley is?"

"No," he kept laughing. It was very weird. He didn't seem to be mad at me at all. You'd think he would want to tear my limbs off one by one, followed by reaching down my throat and pulling out my intestines then strangling me with them, but hey, whatever, I'm glad he didn't.

"No one's going to kill you."

"That's a shame," I heard dumb Lilly mutter. I glared at her. And she and Jackson started giggling. Together… What is up with this Lilly/Jackson interaction lately? I feel very left out of some Lilly/Jackson circle, Stupid. I'm so left out that I'm in a freaking triangle. Or octagon. Because really, my life's too complicated for a freaking pizza slice shape.

I don't know things that are in the shape of an octagon, but octagons remind me of octopuses, and octopuses are pretty BA, you have to admit. And um, hello, "O" in octagon, and "O" in Oliver. So basically, best shape ever.

Seriously. What am I even _talking about?!_

"But why not? I'd kill me. I'm marrying your daughter."

I heard Miley scoff for some reason. "Yeah right," she finally spoke.

"You wouldn't marry me?" I asked with probably too much of my real feelings thrown into it cause she raised her eyebrows oddly at me.

"Oliver," I felt retarded with the way she said my name. It was about the speed of an old woman crossing the street… except the old lady probably could've beaten her. Yeah. "We're sixteen."

"I meant in the future."

Holy Hell. What was I saying/doing?!? Future proposal?! I'm already marrying Hannah Montana, so why can't I just STOP?!

Miley looked a bit out of place when I said that… or sick, I don't know. I'm going to be positive and say "out of place". Jackson and her dad just kinda smirked like they had some sort of reason to smirk.

Lilly, for once in her life, decided to like, be of good use and was like, "I'm Maid of Honor, NATURALLY! Now, I'm taking this," and she grabbed my present and hastily took it to the couch.

"You got _me_ something?" Jackson said, picking up the wrapped gift like it was a stinky…used diaper or something.

"Uh, yeah," I said awkwardly, then turned back to Miley's dad. "So why aren't you mad again?"

"We told the press that what you said was supposed to be taken sarcastically, as a celebrity kind of joke. Because really, why would two sixteen-year-olds get married?"

I was very happy to hear this. I wanted to cry of happiness. I got this giant stupid smile and stuff. But before I got to reply, Miley went, "Yeah, the tabloids went crazy and said you got me pregnant."

I looked at her and blushed harder than… well, cement because cement is very hard. That makes absolutely no sense, dear lord. But seriously… um, to get Miley pregnant… I'd have to… er… banana with … um, I have no food name for… _those_… maybe taco? OH MY GOD. I am SO GROSS!!!!! Banana with taco?! Am I like, in third grade or what?! But besides, Stupid, I really hope you understand what I'm talking about.

"But I didn't… er, _that_," I said to her, remembering Mr. Stewart's presence.

"You better not have," he said threateningly, and I cringed, feeling very guilty as I was remembering some of my dreams. I mean… UGH, CROSSING THAT OUT IN CASE LILLY FINDS THIS, TOO.

"You don't need to worry about that, Dad," Miley said, and I hate admitting it, but the thought did make me kinda sad. I am a bad boy, I know. But I got over it in like, point-two seconds. "Now, is this my present?" she asked and held up the tiny, navy-blue wrapped rectangle on the counter.

"Mhm," my mouth got really dry like a freaking desert then because I had just remembered I was going to tell her I loved her when she opened it. I kinda felt like passing out and I also hoped that my head would hit the floor hard enough that if I did, it would put me into a coma for the next hour… or kill me.

"OH MY GOSH, THANK YOU, OLLIEKINS!" I heard Lilly literally scream from the couch. "I'M GOING TO DRAW HEARTS ALL OVER THEM!"

She was, of course, referring to the blank white Converse I had bought her. I looked over at her, and she was excitedly getting the tissue paper stuff out of the shoebox, and Jackson was beside her, awkwardly holding up the t-shirt I had bought him like _another_ dirty diaper.

"'Chick Magnet'?" Miley questioned, obviously reading the t-shirt's design. "Oliver, you can't be serious. It's JACKSON."

"Chick Repellent is more like it," Mr. Stewart commented, beginning to walk up the stairs to leave us kids alone.

"WHAT! I don't repel girls! I definitely attract them!" Jackson said, shaking a fist.

Miley laughed. It was music to my ears. My goofy grin got goofier, if possible. "Right, and what girl would want to date you and that… shirt of yours?"

Lilly suddenly perked up and started flooding at the mouth, "Not me, nope! NOPE NOPE NOPE! HAHAHAHAHAAH!" We all just stared at the insane woman. She got really red and quickly put the shoebox over her head. "Uh, look? I'm Converse?"

Nobody laughed because really, um, what the heck, Lilly. It was about as lame as one of my jokes.

I heard a noise then. It was a bad kind of noise, too. It was…

Miley opening my present. I thought of just leaving the house because I was so scared. But the gingerbread smell glued me to the floor. Geez. I have an eating disorder, Stupid. Is there an opposite of Anorexia? Like… An-I-eat-too-much-ia?

"Oliver…"

Oh my God, she was looking at it. I couldn't even look at her. In fact, my eyes were shut like a retard. Seizuring eyelids, I suppose.

"Why is there a 'B' on this necklace?"

I died. I'm kidding…unfortunately.

But right there, ladies and gentlemen, is where my plan backfired. I had completely forgotten that the necklace I had bought Becca was of her stupid first initial!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOOOOOODDDDDD. I really need to die!!!! Like, AHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NOW! C'mon, Stupid, kill me!!!! Unwind those spirals on the side of your pages and stab my eyes out! Please!!!!

So after she said that, Lilly died laughing from inside her shoebox. And Jackson just rolled his eyes. I died. No, wait, I already said that.

I said in a rush of lies, "Oh my God, they gave me the wrong necklace at the store!!!! I'll go get you the right one!!!" and snatched it away while Miley just looked very dumbstruck.

I really wanted to proceed to tell her of my feelings. I even STARTED TO SAY something like, "I'm so sorry, Miley, I wanted this to be different! I was going to grab you and ki--" but luckily, my donut-ness was cut short, because really, I could not profess anything to her when I had just given her a necklace with a B on it. She probably thinks it means Bit—well, you know. ARGH.

So I covered up with, "Er, kick you."

KICK YOU.

WHAT THE HELL KIND OF EXCUSE IS THAT?!?!

What is this, _SOCCER PRACTICE_?!!!?!!?!?

And Miley got all irritated and said like any normal confused human being, "Why would you kick me?"

She seriously has no idea that this is all her fault, that her beautiful-freaking-everything makes me stumble over my words and say things like "I wanna Kick You for Christmas"!!!!!

"I meant kick your brother," I said lamely.

"What did I ever do to you?" Jackson spoke up. I started sweating really badly through my shirt. _Why can't I say anything right anymore?!?_

"Did I say brother? I meant video games!!"

"Kick my video games?" Miley repeated, looking very confused.

"I meant your _butt_ in video games!!! THERE!" I said, exasperated, falling onto the couch.

"Seriously, what is your problem lately?" Miley asked. "You've been acting weird lately…"

SHE KNOWS!!!!!! REMAIN CALM!

"NO I HAVEN'T!" I practically screamed.

Yeah, REAL calm, Oliver.

"Yes, you have," she argued. Lilly also nodded her head…er, shoebox. I don't know why she had it on so long. She's weird. "But anyways, want your Christmas gift?" I was pretty grateful Miley had changed the subject…

Lilly stood up excitedly all of a sudden. "YEAH! I got you an awesome hat! I mean, oops, you don't know!" Then she walked forward blindly with her shoebox-for-brains and ran straight into the TV.

We all shook our heads.

The rest of the evening before I left was kinda uneventful. Lilly did get me a hat like she accidentally said she did. Jackson gave me a pat on the back (jerk). Aaaand the beautiful-that-is-Miley gave me a BRAND NEW SURFBOARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I la la la la loooove it.

And Miley.

No. I only like her, I forgot….

Anyways, one itsy bitsy other thing happened that I'm not too happy about, but I can't really write now since I can barely keep my eyes open… and I might not be able to write tomorrow… I have to spend the day at Dad's with Trolliver… It's going to a very merry Christmas… not really…

Who am I kidding? I'll be writing tomorrow, I'm sure. I've already used you too much, Stupid, to quit now.

So goodnight.

Oh, and damn my seizuring mouth, I mean, seriously… Kick you? What the heck...

--

Again, I'm sorry for this horribleness. Forgive me and don't stop reading, please? It will get better… I hope.


	16. Double You Tee Effs

Hello. Don't hurt me. I'm UPDATING! So I deserve a trophy. Okay, not really. So my lame explanation: I originally had half of this chapter completed for the longest time… then in came the school play and screwed over my writing time. It also screwed over my Hannah Montana time, and I was gradually losing interest in the show so I didn't want to write anymore… Then I received frequent PM's from people asking me to update this thing AND I saw that new HM episode. So that gave me inspiration. And finally, you can say hello to CHAPTER SIXTEEN, YO!

Also, I'm "secretively" working the hardest I've ever worked on an HM fic in my life… as of right now, it's under wraps, but it's a Moliver, and I'm trying to make everyone PERFECTLY in character, and it's a bit difficult… But anyways, who cares right now.

Sequel to this? Everyone wants one… but I'm really starting to lean more towards a "no"… Wanna change my mind? Feel free to do so. :)

NOTE!!: This chapter is a bit on the… risqué side. Hopefully this doesn't bother anyone, and I apologize in advance if it does. It's all meant for humor. And I just tried really hard to be funny in this. I hope it worked.

_Disclaimer_: No.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Double You Tee Effs

* * *

**Tuesday, December 25th****, My room, 10:22 a.m.**

Dear Stupid,

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

JINGLE BELLS, LILLY SMELLS, FROM FIFTY MILES AWAAAAY!!

Go ahead and BITE me, Lilly, if you're reading this.

No, wait… actually, don't bite me. I was, uh, kidding. So just baaack away, Tiger Lilly, and erase those thoughts of hurting Oliver in your head! Good girl!

Um, so anyways.

It's CHRISTMAS!! 'Santa' got me lots of cool things this year. Like… like a Wii system with GUITAR HERO III! And, and, an ACTUAL guitar...!!

You know what that means...!!

MILEY CAN GIVE ME LESSONS. MORE OF AN EXCUSE TO SEE HER A LOT. OH YEAH OH YEAH YEAH YEAH! OH YEAH! OH YEAH! OH YEAH YEAH YEAH!

... Um, anyways.

Really, that's about all I got besides some clothes and stuff… and I got some candy and _deodorant_ in my stocking (Uh, double you tee eff, Mom?). I guess the evil Momster decided, "Oh, Trent is so much more well-behaved than Oliver!! He is my favorite so let's forget all about OLIVER!! You know, I think I'm going to spoil the troll with ten zillion video games and sports equipment and remote control cars and airplanes!! OLIVER, HERE'S SOME DEODERANT BECAUSE YOU STINK AT LIFE!!"

Ugh.

And, okay, the ungrateful brat decided to announce something a bit embarrassing to Mom when we were opening our presents.

First of all, I'm not going to lie. Not seeing Miley under my tree in the morning sorta depressed me. I felt really mopey because all I saw was Trolliver shaking random presents at _five in the morning_.

You see, he had woken me up that early by jumping on my bed, bouncing up and down, screaming at the top of his tiny lungs, "OLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL'VER!" (He sometimes forgets the 'i'... Weird, since, you know, that's his favorite letter and all.) "CHRISTMAS! CHRISTMAS! CHRISTMAS!!"

I was like really tired and stuff because um, hello, I'm not very appreciative of waking up to find mini Satan on your bed at that early of an hour.

So I was kinda just like, "Dude, troll, get off of me."

And he got right into my ear and screamed, "OOOOLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL'VER!!"

So I bolted upright and smacked my forehead into his, so he started crying, and ran to Mommy's so he could "kiss his widdle baby finger" which doesn't make sense since I smacked his FOREHEAD… and so that she could yell at me, even though it was _clearly_ my brother's fault… Whatever. Take the faaaavorite's side. Stupid women and their PMSing.

And the entire time Mom was putting a bandage on it, he was just smirking at me, and when she looked at him, he started crying and Mom would start glaring at me again (and of course, while she wasn't looking at him, he would stick his tongue out). I COULD JUST KILL HIM.

Except Mom wouldn't be too happy about that… and Dad might… no, wait, Dad probably wouldn't care that much since Trent broke his freaking theatre sized stereo system last year on his birthday by spraying soda cans in the living room because "it was too hot out". And Dad _loved_ that stereo system. Way more than he could probably any human being.

But yeah.

I was even more irritated when Trent started grabbing my whole, what, five presents? and started shaking them.

"OL! Your presents are bigger than mine!" he complained as he shook the present that held Guitar Hero III.

"STOP SHAKNG IT!" I yelled and ran to the tree and Trent screamed some more and dropped the present, then ran into the kitchen where Mom was sitting calmly drinking her coffee. I chased after him with my arms thrashing threateningly above me like I was some sort of octopus.

"OLIVER! Haven't you already done enough?" she said disgustedly as the little ape cowered on her free arm.

I was flabbergasted. My family seriously hates me. "He was shaking my presents!!" I said in blatant outrage. "Now, c'mon, Mom, give him here, so I can shake _him!!_ Then maybe you'll be able to hear all that EVIL DEMON CHILD stuff rattling inside of him!!"

And he started crying again and Mom told me to go into the other room because I was ruining her Christmas spirit.

Whatever. Like I was going to listen to her…

So I went into the other room anyways. Just to open my presents, you know. And as I began to open them, Trent popped up beside me, grinning from ear to ear. It was that kind of grin only little demon brothers bare. The kind that makes you want to run away or something because you just know if anything comes out of that smile, it's trouble. T-R-ent. T-R-ouble. TROLL.

I looked at him irritably. Not that I ever give him any sort of endearing look since the child has been trying to ruin my life since the day he popped out of Mom's… stork blanket.

_"What?" _I said.

His smile grew, if possible. And the most beautiful word came out of the worst lips it could possibly come out of… "Miley," he said, for once not screaming at the top of his puny lungs.

I did not hesitate to choke on my own saliva. "M-Miley?"

"Miley," he said again. "Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley Miley—"

"OH MY GOD, SHUT UP! What about Miley?"

Mom came running into the room. She looked pretty pissed… which meant Man Voice time.

"OLIVER OSCAR OKEN! Do not yell at your little brother!"

Yep, there it was.

"But Mom! He's being an annoying little piece of—"

"OLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL'VER!" Trent randomly screeched in my ear, and I flew backwards again in a daze. I kind of just lay there against the carpet, my ears ringing. The stupid troll really makes me hate my name… But it's always better for him to be saying it than other people… coughJerkGarbagecough…

Mom laughed at Trolliver. Like him making me deaf for the rest of my life was going to be funny. Parents always say they don't have their favorites… but seriously… they have to.

Then Trent blurted happily, "OL'VER LOOOOOOOOVES MIIII—"

"MY shirt!" I cut him off nervously and slammed my hand against his mouth. "Er, your shirt! Yeah, yeah, you're right, Trentinator, I love your shirt!"

He bit me.

THE BRAT BIT ME!! And who knows, Stupid, I might have troll rabies now!

I howled in pain and then held my hand to my chest and glared at the psycho. Mom took Trent by the arm… which is about as much scolding as he was going to get.

"Ol loves Miley," Trent said again and ran behind Mom, who raised an eyebrow at me.

I die a lot in my life. So it came to me that it was no surprise that I did then, too.

"Really now?" she prodded.

I started sputtering random noises and sounds to protest, but nothing was really working, and then Trent added, to my horror, "MMMMyep. Lilly told me! Oh, oh, and Ol is like, 'OH, MIIIIILEY MILEY!' in his sleep sometimes!"

"YOU ARE DEAD!" I lunged forward, and this time, Mom couldn't even stop me. I chased the brat around the house for about a year. The monster has too much energy; I couldn't keep up with him if I tried. Eventually Mom forced me to go open presents and stuff. Surprisingly, the Miley dream comment was left alone…

So now I'm in my room.

I'm waiting the moment for my mom to announce it's time to go meet Dad at the grocery store. I have to spend the rest of the day there. It's probably going to suck 'cause it's really boring and all. All I have to talk to is Trolliver… which you know, is the stupidest idea that could possibly ever cross my mind since he's already made me half deaf. And I'd like to keep my eardrums nice and healthy for at least the next couple of hours.

Oh, that's the troll hollering it's time to go. Byeee, Stupid.

* * *

**Tuesday, December 25****th****, Living room at Dad's house, 4:56 p.m.**

Dear Stupid,

My family really does hate me. _Screw_ Christmas today.

When we met my dad, we had the usual awkward family moment we have every single time Mom and Dad are in each other's presence. It was kind of like this –

Me: Hi, Dad.

Dad: Hey, Oliver.

Troll: DAAAAAAAAAAAAAD!

Dad: SPORT!

Mom: (who has been standing at this scene for like, ever, like a bump on a log or something) Hello… George.

Dad: (like he just notices her) Hello… Kim.

(Then a tumbleweed goes by, crickets chirp, wolfs howl, and an eagle cries.)

Me: (the usual superhero of the situation) So, anyways, BYE MOM! (hops into car, dragging brother with him)

Anyways, I'm here at Dad's, recovering from what he has just told me. You see, Dad and I don't get along that well for some reason, so the conversation we have just had is ten times worse than it normally would be for any father/son thing.

When we got inside, Dad ushered Trolliver to a pile of brightly colored Christmas presents, which was surprising to me because that meant Dad actually took the time to wrap them this year… or he hired someone to with all that extra money he has.

Dad gave me socks.

Socks.

SOCKS. WITH SNOWMEN ON THEM. I DON'T EVEN WEAR SOCKS! THIS IS CALIFORNIA, DAD!! First I get deodorant, and now SOCKS?!

DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF, _PARENTS_?!

I suppose it's better than what the Troll got me. He wiped his boogies on my sleeve and screamed, "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" and ran away before I had time to strangle it. Yes, it. I've now decided to not give my brother a gender because he does not act the way any little boy should. Or girl. So therefore, he is an it.

It smells a lot today, by the way. In a bad way.

Anyways, I know Dad and I don't talk much so he doesn't know me very well anymore, but when he was like, "I didn't know what to get you. So, here you go, and twenty bucks," and just handed me a pair of FUZZY WHITE SNOWMEN SOCKS, how the hell am I _supposed_ to respond? "Just what I've always wanted?" OH YEAH! Cause I've been a good boy all year for a pair of lousy SOCKS.

So, yeah… I said, "Just what I've always wanted."

Shoot me. I'm too nice of a person.

All the while, It was in the background, hugging his, er, its brand new BB gun.

Anyways, I spent most of the day sitting there watching TV while Trolliver shot at random things outside the house because Dad is too lazy to chase after It and tell It to leave the poor seagulls alone.

So I was in the middle of watching an old rerun of "Are You Dumber Than a Dog?" (which brings back haunting memories of a beagle named Spot), and Dad walked in and sat down right next to me. He looked at me for awhile and said, "So, son, you had it yet?"

I looked back at him. "What?"

"You know, intercourse."

SERIOUSLY, Stupid. THAT'S WHAT HE SAID. INTER and COURSE… together! WHAT?! HOLY HELL. I thought about running outside to grab It so It could shoot me in the head with the BB Gun, hopefully fracturing my brain enough so that I would become brain dead and not have to live the rest of this life anymore.

I said, "DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF?!"

Except, it wasn't Double You Tee Eff. It was… the real Double You Tee Eff. Which I feel horrible for because it's probably the worst thing you can say. No, wait, I'm wrong, the worse thing you can say is the word "intercourse" in front of your own son.

At first, I thought he was shocked at my language. His eyes got all bulgy brown and he started clutching onto his chest. I thought maybe it was heart failure so I was prepared to call 911, but then… he burped.

Yeah, my dad BURPED after I had said the effing eff word.

Effing eff word. Hahahahahaahahahahahahahha, okay, what the hell, Oliver, it's not that funny.

Dad was like, "Well, have you?"

No.

"Yes."

YES?! Double You Tee Eff, _MOUTH?_!

He stared at me for a long while. It made me really nervous. I mean, I had just lied for some reason to my own father parental figure that I wasn't a virgin. Which, I definitely am, Stupid… so…

After about twenty-three years, he went, "Lillian, I assume?"

LILLY. He had suggested I had taken part in "intercourse" with LILLY!! Oh my God. Ew. Ew. Ew. She's like… a sister! That's like… incest! I don't do incest! Ew, It just popped up in my head.

"NO!" I pretty much screamed, and some of my spit flew all over Dad's face like saliva rain. Oops.

He wiped it off carelessly. "Then who was it? Were you careful?"

Answer to question one: I'M A VIRGIN. Answer to question two: I'M A VIRGIN.

My real answer to question one: "Miley."

AAAAAAHHHHHHH.

My real answer to question two: "Definitely."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I HAD JUST OPENLY TOLD MY FATHER I HAD ESS EE EX WITH MILEY STEWART AND THAT I WAS "DEFINITELY CAREFUL" ABOUT IT.

DOUBLE EFFING-YOU TEE EFFING-EFF?!

Seriously, Stupid. Tell me why I even lie about these kinds of things? I could've avoided this whole thing if I was just like, "Oh, silly father, I'm a virgin!" But then… that would've opened up doors in his mind that I dig bananas. WHICH I DON'T. Except, you know, they are quite yummy. NOT THOSE KIND, STUPID!! AHHHH.

So Dad was like, "Hm. Interesting."

_Interesting_. Me having "intercourse" is apparently _interesting_ to my father. Great.

He continued, "I take it you two are dating?"

"I wish."

WONDERFUL, Oliver. You just told Daddy that you had the BIG YOU KNOW WHAT with a girl _you aren't even dating_! Wonderful. Absolutely _wonderful_. I am puking up sarcasm.

Just as I had expected, Dad looked pretty pissed off. "Did you take advantage of her then?"

"NEVER! I love her, Dad."

Oh my God.

I told my Dad I love Miley. Do I really love Miley, Stupid?! I mean, I'm lying about… doing stuff with her, and now I'm sitting here openly declaring my supposed love for her?! Is that a lie, too?! Do I love her? Do I?! OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A STUPID BLUE NOTEBOOK, WHY AM I EVEN ASKING YOU?!

I should talk to Lilly about this.

…On second thought, what the hell am I thinking?

So Dad goes, "You really love her?"

I didn't know what to say. My mouth had gone dry from even saying the words "love" and "Miley" in the same sentence. "I don't know," I got out.

"Does she love you back?"

"No, she has a boyfriend."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I'VE NOW HAD INTERCOURSE WITH A GIRL WHO'S DATING _SOMEONE ELSE_! WAY TO FREAKING GO, OLLIEKINS!

He looked at me some more, like he was examining me or something. "Well, I hope that if you keep this up, you're extremely careful about this, you know. I doubt your mother knows. I actually don't think you should be doing this at all, but I guess your mom says telling you teenagers nowadays NOT to do something, makes you want to do it more."

This came as interesting to me.

"You still talk to Mom?"

He shifted uncomfortably. HA! Now he could feel my pain!

"Every once in awhile…"

"Why did you guys split? I knew you guys fought a lot… but I mean, Troll, er… Trent really misses you a lot."

There was a look on his face I'd never seen before. He actually appeared… miserable.

"You know," he said with a sigh. "I miss you guys, too, but sometimes people fall out of love."

Wow. I didn't know what to say to this. So I was like, "I'm sorry," which is weird since I always had thought he was the one who should be apologizing to It and I after all these years.

Dad smiled. "No, it's alright. I still have you guys."

I tilted my head. Suddenly my pocket started buzzing. I took my cell phone out. "One New Message". I glanced up at Dad. He had stood up.

"I just hope you're careful, Oliver. I love you, and I never tell you guys that enough. I'm just gonna go bug your brother now," he fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a wallet. "By the way, condoms aren't always cheap, so here's another twenty."

AHHHHH.

MY FATHER JUST GAVE ME MONEY TO BUY CONDOMS.

Isn't he supposed to be like, "YOU'RE GROUNDED!" or something?

Whatever. Dad is apparently abnormal.

So I finally opened my cell phone. Miley had sent the text message. I could feel the smile on my face. I quickly pushed "read".

"_hey, merry christmas oliver! btw ur invited 2 jakes new years party this coming monday night :) hope u can come!_"

DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF?WAS SHE _SERIOUS?! _OH YEAH! Like I was really going to go to some stupid end of the year party at Jerk Rat's house and watch him and Miley eat each other's lips off at midnight! Yeah! Sounds like a killer time to me!

So I texted back, "_no thank u_".

Almost immediately, my phone buzzed again. My new message read, "_please?" _and a picture of her doing the "puppy dog pout". I practically melted.My fingers wouldn't type "no".

Instead, they typed, "_fine what time?_"

Honestly, Stupid. I'm going to spend the last minute of this year watching the world's most beautiful girl suck face with the most ugly rat in the world.

If I ever begin to understand my behavior, I'll let you know.

Oh, and P.S. Unmerry Christmas.

* * *

Don't have much to say here… so any reviews, my loves?


	17. Twits

Probably my fastest update ever. Maybe. Be proud. Anyways, the next week and a half are dedicated to my research paper, so I won't have time to work on the next chapter… so I decided to give you this to enjoy while I suffer and bite my nails off for awhile. I hope you find it enjoyable. I'm still bipolar about a sequel to this. Like, one day, it's "hell no", and the next is, "FASHOOO!" (As Oliver says later on in this chapter)

So, thoughts are always appreciated. And wish me luck on my last high school research paper. Cause in May, I graduate. Egads.

OH, AND I SEE THE BLUE MAN GROUP WEDNESDAY! They're so awesome. I've already seen them once during my freshman year, but the senior class gets to see them Wednesday, so heck yes! I'm sure you're jealous if you know who they are.

Prom is Saturday, too. Yay. Sort of. My date ditched me. So I'm going alone. Ah well. I'll still have fun, I'm sure.

Okay, I'm done with my pointless life update.

_Disclaimer_: Yes. No. Maybe so. No, really, no.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: Twits

* * *

**  
Wednesday, December 26****th****, 1:10 p.m., my room.**

Dear Stupid,

This is going to be my last entry.

Mom just called me a "dimwitted twit". So, basically, it's over for good now.

I have decided to kill myself and put my will here. I figure if I'm already dead, then no harm can come from reading you, Stupid. I think. I suppose Jerk Garbage might start gnawing on my dead body with his rat teeth he'd be so frustrated with all the insults I've made at him in here, but whatever, he can grab himself a piece of cheese and live happily ever after in a trashcan.

So. About killing myself. I've thoroughly considered the possibilities, and I've come to two options. I think I'm going to run out in the middle of the street and get hit by a car. Or bust into the ghetto and simply yell, "Yo yo, my—"…. well, you know, that one word that begins with an 'N'. It'll get a white boy shot, FASHOOOO. Even one as cool and tizite and freaky freaky fresh as myself.

So, anyways, Stupid, here is my will.

OLIVER OSCAR OKEN'S WILL – **PLEASE FOLLOW ACCORDINGLY.**

Mom: I don't know what you'd really want from a teenage boy. But, you know, since you are the one that has created me… (disturbing as the thought is… and images… okay, puke. Sorry, Mom, but that lower half of your body cannot be pretty. Oh my God, what am I even saying?! SORRY! AGAIN!) I figure you should at least be specified to have some thing. You can really have whatever you want since I do feel bad for making you deal with teenage hormones and stretching your Man Voice beyond limits, but there's one thing in particular I want you to have. And that is… my Guitar Hero III game. It has been very dear to me in the past day of owning it. And I'd like you to have it over Trent. You're very welcome.

Dad: You can take your money-to-buy-condoms back. I don't know if you'll be using them (okay, seriously, ew), but whatever. You told me to always be careful. I guess you can have all my other sports stuff. I'd give them to Trent, but you know… it'd all just end up in pieces thanks to your "ingenious" idea of a BB Gun yesterday.

Trent: Uh… you can have my Spiderman underwear. Go nuts.

Lilly: Er, you can have anything you've ever given me. And I guess you can have back all the wonderful insults you've thrown at me throughout the years. And I want you to have my pet gerbil. I know, you probably didn't even know I had one, but Missy Elliott needs a good home when I leave, and Trolliver will probably shoot her. Or worse case scenario, eat her.

Miley: Well, Miles, I want you to have Stupid. This journal. Its name is Stupid, if you haven't already realized. Its been a good buddy to me really throughout the years. And I'm sure you can have a heck of a time peeing your pants off with Lilly about my affections for you. Or, you'd maybe want to kill me because of the inappropriate stuff, but whatever, I'm dead already. Go punch me at the visitation if you're that offended. Well, considering I even have one. I hope my body is identifiable after the cars or ghettofabulous people are done with it.

Anything else is up for grabs.

So, goodbye, cruel world. You have left me no choice but to result to this. I'm sorry, everyone, but I hope you understand why I did it.

Bye. Sayonara. Adios. Aloha (that means bye, too, right?).

I sure hope God can make it up to me in heaven. Pizza Roll Mountain better be waiting for me… with the Ranch River for dipping sauce. Mm. Okay, now I'm slightly anticipating my death.

So long, Stupid. We had a good run.

* * *

**Wednesday, December 26****th****, 1:40 p.m., my room again.**

Dear Stupid,

YEAH, SHUT UP.

I couldn't do it. As soon as I drove myself to ghetto world, I got too scared and had to turn around. And I didn't feel like running in front of traffic simply because I figured there was a chance I could still be alive after the car plummets into my tummy.

At least my will is written out already so I never have to worry about that again.

So, anyways. About why I wanted to do this.

I was at Lilly's house this morning. She was being a twit (I've just discovered the joy of that brilliant word since earlier) and not listening to anything I was saying.

So I said, "Stop being a twit." Except, I wasn't aware of that word yet, so I think I said "dumbo", which is so not as cool.

And she was like, "Tra la la la! I love life!" and skipping around like a twit.

What a twit. What a great word.

"LILLY!"

She stopped and glared at me like I was seriously interrupting something. _Right_.

"WHAT?!"

"What is your flippin' problem?! You are skipping around like... like a bunny on crack!"

"I am not."

"Are, too."

"Are not."

"Are, too."

"ARE NOT!"

"ARE, TOO, DEE, TOO!"

Ha. I totally got her there. Star Wars owns.

She was looking at me pretty dangerously after I said that. Pretty scary. I thought for sure she was gonna start flaming at the mouth like a dragon and turn me into fried chicken.

But she didn't. She was just like, "Fine, maybe I was. But something so wonderful happened today…" and started drooling at the mouth and gazing off into space. I would say she was actually staring at something, but when I checked, she was just looking at a crack in the wall. Which is not something to drool about. I think.

"What happened?" I asked and sat on her bed.

She twirled around. I didn't really know what to do because I didn't understand why she made me come over to her house in the first place. I was actually trying to avoid her since I didn't want my dad's talk to come out into the open anytime soon. And seeing her reminded me that my dad thought I had… "flowered" her. Wow. Embarrassing.

But yeah. I just knew this was about a boy. So again, why am I here? Miley is supposed to deal with Lilly/boy issues, not me.

I was right, of course. "I think the boy I like almost kissed me today," she said.

Seriously. Why doesn't the entire universe get married already?! Everyone seems to have beautiful love except me. I have unfortunately been stuck on some stupid, yet amazing, fantastic, beautiful, gorgeous girl who has her stupid, yet amazing, fantastic, beautiful, gorgeous self all over some totally undeserving, retarded, wormy, smelly, lint-licker, dirty _RAT!_

Even freaking Lilly seems to have a love life. LILLY TRUSCOTT. You know it's just plain over for me now. I'm going to be an old geezer with five thousand and two cats and baby Missy Elliott gerbils running around my one-roomed apartment, stuck on the toilet because of infinite constipation, and probably die there like Elvis because I will have the _ultimate_ blues.

Despite how much I really didn't care, I went, "Okay, who?"

She then eyed me weirdly. "You promise not to tell?"

_Of course_. Girls always ask this question when they tell us secrets as if we men are gossip queens like they are and will put this kinda useless information in some newspaper for everyone to see. Hello, Lillian, I have testicles, not a vajayjay.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just who?"

She sighed and sat down next to me. Her face appeared all depressed all of a sudden… Her ecstatic mood had been broken. For a second, I thought she could fart rainbows and butterflies and unicorns, but now she's all like… 'I'm gonna go kill myself'?

"Okay… Jackson."

It didn't sink in properly. I'm first and foremost, a donut, you know. Genius is my second title. Or third. Miley-Obsessed is somewhere in that list.

I said, "Who's Jack?"

"I said Jackson, Oliver."

"Yeah, I know, but I kinda need to know the kid's father in order to figure out who the dude is."

She was looking at me very confused. A twit look. "What are you talking about?"

"You said Jack's son. Who is Jack, and who is his son?"

I was suddenly slapped across the face/mouth area. I won't be surprised if she loosened one of my freaking teeth, despite the fact I've lost every single one of them already.

"You idiot! JACKSON! As in, JACKSON STEWART, MILEY'S OLDER BROTHER!"

I choked. Or something. I don't know. I guess I might've just forgot how to breathe due to Lilly's abusiveness, but suddenly, I think I was dying. Because, WHAT?! HOLY HELL.

"You like JACKSON?"

"Unfortunately."

"Unfortunately is right. Miley is gonna have a cow, or even a rhinoceros or two, maybe even a zebra, or the whole animal kingdom when she finds this out—"

"She won't be finding out."

I stared at her. "How come? I thought you two little weirdos told each other everything?"

Lilly sighed again. Sighs from Lilly indicate "run away now because you are about to be forced into hearing something totally boring that will transport you to the world of ZZZZ's". But she was standing in front of the door at the time, my only escape.

"Oliver, it's her _brother_. I can't tell her. I can only tell you. So shut up and pay attention. So today at Rico's… Jackson was selling me a smoothie. And then blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah he almost kissed me."

Sorry, Stupid. I kinda tuned out on the deets. I was too busy staring at a picture of Miley in her swimming suit that Lilly had on her dresser. She was holding up a sideways peace sign. It was… mouthwatering… Er, the peace sign was! Yeah. A mouthwatering peace sign… with a fantastic body.

Eventually Lilly noticed what I was doing and was like, "Can you stop staring at Miley's chest and pay attention to me!?"

I went, "Oh em gee, girlfriend, like totally, like, chill."

Not really. I'm not a homosexual twit.

What I really said was, "For your information, I was admiring that… that… pair of lovely pink scissors you have sitting there!"

"Since when do scissors pop tents?"

"They don't." Then the meaning suck in, and I glanced down in alarm. But she had tricked me. "LILLY!"

She shrugged. "Whatever, Oliver. Anyways, just don't tell Miley. If you do, I'm telling her you love her."

My eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

She picked up her cell phone and said in this twit-way, "I would."

"FINE! I won't… grr, I hate you." And with that, I took off out of the twit's house.

That's the first part of our story, Stupid. Well, okay, not 'our', since I am not more than one person. Although, I do question my sanity sometimes…

As I left Lilly's house, who do I run into in the driveway?

Take a wild guess.

Miley Stewart.

And I mean… _run into_. Literally. We conked heads. It was very embarrassing. For me, anyways. She got a huge red mark across her forehead. Oh my God, wouldn't that be cool if I gave her a lightning bolt scar like Harry Potter??

Okay, no, it wouldn't. At all. What the hell, Oliver. Except, going to Hogwarts would be mighty fine with me. Anywhere to escape this Hell Hole. And I just have a thing for hippogriffs.

But yeah, so Miley said, "Ow."

I said, "Ow."

It was a conversation of deep meaning, I know.

But, it gets better.

"Sorry, Oliver, I was just on my way to Lilly's."

Oh yes. I secretly think she _knew_ I was there and was planning to go kiss my lips off. But you know, she'd never admit this. But it's okay, because I secretly know.

I played dumb… and for no good reason, too, the more I think about it.

"Really? I had no idea!"

She blinked at me, then I realized how retarded I am because we were standing next to the Truscott mailbox.

"Um, kidding. But yeah, I was just leaving actually. I was told I'm not supposed to tell you something and—" I froze in realization of my words, and Miley was staring at me. I panicked and pointed behind her. "OH MY GOD, A MONSTER!"

She didn't even fall for it. Dang that intelligent woman for seeing through my tricks. God. SHE'S SUPPOSED TO BE STUPID FOR A SPLIT SECOND, NOT SMART!!

I love her. :)

Er, like her a lot.

"What are you not supposed to tell me?"

_THINK, OLIVER, THINK OF A LIE!_ My mind was screaming.

But my mind and mouth have issues, as you've come to realize, Stupid. They don't get along. They never seem to agree on anything. And my mouth got all pissed off at my mind or whatever and said, "Lilly likes someone who you wouldn't approve of."

"Really now? Who?"

Miley crossed her arms. A clear sign I was doomed and that I would surrender to her ways. Just like she's always been able to do to me. But honestly, try saying 'no' to a woman who's like, got eyes the color of greebluay, and the hair with the scent of strawberries, and pretty much everything else is perfect about her.

I didn't want to answer. I really didn't.

But then she bit her lip, and I was under her spell… as if I've never been not under it, but you know.

So I said something I didn't even predict.

I said, "Me."

_Me_.

I had just told Miley that Lilly likes _me_.

Holy. Freezing. Mother. Popsicle. Frog. Skunk. Lamppost. Sock. Caffeinated. Stick. _TWIT!!_

I decided to screen the words for you, Stupid.

Lilly doesn't like me. Not even much as a friend.

Er, gross. I think this is Dad's fault for suggesting ESS EE EX with her. Great. Thanks, Dad, you have forever corrupted my mind. For that, you can no longer have the money-for-condoms I wrote in my will. Not that I'll be using it any time soon with the way things in my life are going.

So yeah, Miley just stood there for awhile. I didn't know what was running through her mind, to be honest. She looked to be in a daze.

"Miley?" I asked nervously.

She shook her head. I watched in a hopeless trance as her brown curls flew around her shoulders. "Er, yeah… sorry. Lilly likes you? She likes you? Lilly really likes you? As in… _likes you?!"_

I don't know what repeating the phrase over and over again was doing for her. And if I didn't know any better, I could almost sense some anger.

"Yes."

I could've just walked out on that one. But, you know, my twit-of-a-mouth had to go all PMSing on my brain today. Again. My mouth doesn't have a time of the month, though. It has a time of the… every second.

"Oh… okay." And then a freaking two minutes later, she continued, "Do you like her?"

No.

"I don't know."

STUPID, THIS IS WHY I WANT TO KILL MYSELF. I told Miley I might like Lilly as more than a friend. What is wrong with me?! Why does Miley cause me to malfunction?! Great. GREAT. And now Miley will never like me because Lilly and her have this rule, which I can totally understand (until _now_ that is since I practically love the girl!), that they can't date each other's ex love interests. And if Lilly supposedly likes me right now, then I'm out of the picture for Miley forever!

And you know what ELSE I said to Miley?!

"I gotta go. Bye."

And ran.

I_ ran down the street_. Just leaving her there at Lilly's. So Lilly had no idea what was going on and was gonna have to deal with Miley.

Oh, oh, and guess _what?_

I had DRIVEN to Lilly's.

Meaning, I had to run back to Lilly's, humilatingly enough, and Miley was still standing there confused. I got into my car and shifted into reverse as fast as humanly possible, then… I slammed on the accelerator… and…

I crashed into Lilly's neighbors' mailbox.

I freaking killed the back of my car in my embarrassment.

And the mailbox, but, er, not as important to me.

So I had to go inside and talk to the owner of the mailbox, which turned out to be not so bad, only a bit difficult, because it was this old lady who asked me to repeat every syllable at least thousand and forty-eight times each since she didn't have in her hearing aid.

_Kill me._

I obviously cannot kill myself. Already tried. So, you're just gonna have to grow some murderous hands and kill me yourself, Stupid. Honestly.

I came home after that, completely ignoring Miley's cries of, "Oliver! Oliver! Come back!" which is so unlike me because, yeah, she's beautiful, and she thinks Lilly and I are going to date.

And I have to go to basketball practice now. Where Jerk Rat will be. I should probably grab a mousetrap on the way out… make that two…

Basketball practice is followed by an unnecessary meeting with Dr. Harms. Who will tell me how to act in my interview tomorrow at Dynamite Donuts. Woo.

... All which will probably be followed by chewing out by Lilly. She's already sent me three text messages, which I have refused to look at because I have a feeling if I do, I might as well jump off the roof, or the face of the earth, since I'm pretty sure I already know she wants to decapitate me and is requesting the when and where of the event.

And tomorrow I will have to go see how much it will cost to fix my car. Great.

I hope you now see why I need suicide, Stupid.

Anyways… I gotta go. Crackhead Coach will make me run a thousand extra suicides if I'm late.

Wait. _Suicides_. Maybe I need them! A thousand might kill me? Hopefully?

Oh, who am I kidding. With my luck, all it will do is pull a stupid pinky toe muscle or something. Gah.

So bye, Stupid. Talk to you whenever I feel like things are out of proportion. Oh wait, too late. I suck at life.

* * *

As always, please, review and leave your thoughts. Sorry if it wasn't as funny as you wanted it to be. I tried. It's just getting hard.


	18. Pateradactils

Hola, dudes and dudettes. Chapter Eighteen is here! Which means, after you read this, there will only be two more chapters (the last one being extremely lengthy at Jake's New Years party) and an epilogue. I can't believe I've almost finished this. Crazy.

I know I always say this, but I don't think this is very funny, but I really had to get to this point quickly since what happens in here was _supposed _to happen last chapter… soo, I'm kinda behind, but will make up for it in the last chapter.

Also, this chapter, for whatever reason, I had to edit about a million times before submitting it. The order of lines were all screwed up for some reason, so if something doesn't make sense, be a dear, and inform me asap?

A sequel? Well, I think I've decided no... but there's still a chance I guess… I'll leave the epilogue open so that if I ever do end up writing it, it will still fit. Sorry for everyone this may disappoint, but I have another Moliver chapter fic I want to release after this is complete.

Sooo. Don't hurt me, just read the chapter already. Hehe.

_Disclaimer_: As usual, I'm not allowed to say I own Hannah Montana when I clearly don't.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Pateradactils

* * *

**Thursday, December 27th, 1:03 a.m., my room**

Dear Stupid,

Well.

I can't sleep. And by can't, I mean, not physically capable because I'm pretty sure my mom is punishing me for some unexplainable reason and put a stack of needles or other harmful pointed things under my mattress.

Unless it is like a pea, and I'm being tested to see if I am a princess!!

Um. I can't believe I just wrote that. Maybe I _am_ a homosexual worm, just like Jerk Garbage.

No. No I'm not. I love Miley. She is not a boy. Last time I checked, she has boobs. Not that I check… or look… or anything…

Uh…

For crying out loud, hold on. I honestly can't even get comfortable on this thing enough to write.

There, that's better. I'm on the floor… whoa, wait… hold on again.

I'm gonna kill It. It's done it again. (Well, not done itself… ew. As much as I dislike the freak, the troll is not an asexual sponge.) No wonder I couldn't get comfortable. The blasted (er, blasted? Since when am I in the oldies?) … stupid idiot put a bunch of its toy plastic dinosaurs under my mattress.

I'm going to go smother It in its sleep. Be right back…

Okay, I had to abort the mission. It bit me three times. I didn't want to stick around for the fourth. I guess I shouldn't have even let him chomp on me twice, but sometimes, the reality of what's going on doesn't really sink in… haha… sink in. I am way too punny, Stupid!

But really. I know someday Mom will screw her cap on right and send the troll off to Siberia, so it's all good!

So, the rest of my day today.

Let's see.

For starters, I now have a girlfriend.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

Yeah. I am freaking dating Lilly. AKA the girl WHO WANTS ME TO SUFFER EVERY SECOND I AM ALIVE AND BREATHING.

Well, I guess it makes sense, because she _is_ really still doing her job, since this has made me suffer every second I am alive and breathing.

BUT DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF?? WHY MUST THIS BE HER JOB??

How can my luck get any worse, Stupid? It can't.

And wanna know how this happened, Stupid? I'll tell.

Since I wasn't responding/looking at the text messages Lilly had been sending me, she called me on my cell on my way to basketball practice. Here is our following conversation in sort of script form.

**Me: (not looking at who was calling, which was my first mistake) Hello?**

**Lilly: RARARARARARARARARARARA!!**

Basically, Lilly was roaring and yelling in some foreign Tiger Lilly language that caused me to become deaf for a little bit.

**Me: (regaining use of ears) What?**

**Lilly: RARARARARARARARARARARA!**

**Me: Okay. That was rude.**

**Lilly: RARARARARARARA YOU'RE AN IDIOT!**

**Me: Sort of.**

**Lilly: SORT OF?! RARARARARARARA! Why did you freaking tell Miley we were dating?!**

**Me: I only told her you liked someone.**

Like Cady said in Mean Girls, it was like word vomit.

How the heck did I remember to spell her name like that? Gosh, Miley and Lilly have made me watch that movie way too much for my own manly, testosterone, ballsy good…

**Lilly: RARARARARARARARARRARARA—**

**Me: Lilly, seriously. Stop yelling at me. My ears are bleeding and I—**

**Lilly: That's not all that's gonna be bleeding after I'm through with you!**

**Me: Well, I'm sorry, okay! I couldn't say you liked Jack—**

**Lilly: JACK PEPPER CHEESE!**

Now... I know Lilly really does love cheese and all, but honestly, what the hell.

**Me: Jack pepper cheese? Don't you mean Jacks—**

**Lilly: JACK PEPPER CHEESE! Yum yum in my tummy tum!**

**Me: Are you on crack or someth—**

**Lilly: I don't wanna say it in case my mom hears, so anyways—  
**_**  
**_**Me: STOP INTERRUPTING—**

**Lilly: Miley likes you.**

**Me: I TOLD YOU TO STOP—whaaaaaaaaat?!**

I think my heart practically flopped out of my throat like a fish out of water. Well, okay, maybe it was something else, but I sure as hell choked on SOMETHING. Because holy freaking cow! MILEY LIKES…ME?

Then, Lilly responded with the cruelest answer humanly possible—

**Lilly: Jaykay! I just wanted to interrupt you.****  
**  
Imagine if I had a knife, and just what I would've done to her. Unfortunately, I lacked one and all I really had as a weapon was you, Stupid, and as strong and powerful as you are… I think she'd win.

So I killed her with words.

**Me: I hate you. So much.**

It didn't work because she still replied.

**Lilly: Well, I'm not too fond of you either, donuthead. Thanks to you, Miley bit my ear off and chewed on it, followed by her producing sounds of either an elephant or lion inside of her throat.**

**Me: Why was she so mad?**

**Lilly: I don't know. She seemed like she was mad that I didn't tell her that I liked you.**

**Me: (overjoyed) Maybe she was jealous!!**

**Lilly: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!**

For a second, I was thinking, "Oh, Lilly's just watching television, and something funny happened, like Adam Sandler singing Lunch Lady Land with Chris Farley."

**Me: What?!**

I then realized she was laughing at me because I don't know anyone who has laughed that hard at that SNL skit before.

**Lilly: HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'm done.. No, wait. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—**

**Me: Lilly! It's not that funny. She could be jealous! She really could! At last! She has finally realized how much she loves me and wants to marry me and sire my children! Oh, the wonderful days I have ahead of me—**

(Shut up, Stupid.)

**Lilly: Sire? What the heck's a sire?**

So totally uncalled for on Lilly's part, but basically anything that comes out of her mouth that's directed at me is uncalled for. Really, I didn't even mean to answer the phone if I knew the psycho was going to be on the other line.

**Me: I don't know. I think I heard it on the Lion King. From that Zazu bird.**

**Lilly: Oh, yeah, Zazu. What a guy.**

**Me: He got a lame part in the Lion King II.**

**Lilly: Yeah, he did. Poor birdie.**

**Me: Yeah… oh, so what the heck were we talking about?**

**Lilly: I think you said Miley was gonna have your deranged troll babies or something. Do continue with your wildest fantasy come true.**

I played it off like she hadn't insulted me.

**Me: Oh yes, where was I? Well, when we get married, we will run away to the Bahamas and drink those little drinks with umbrellas in them. She will feed me pizza rolls with ranch by the hour, and foot rubs every four hours. I suppose we'll be— (hears Lilly giggling) Lilly?**_  
_  
**Lilly: Er, what?**

**Me: You're recording this, aren't you?!**

**Lilly: Noooooooooo.**

**Me: LILLY!**

**Lilly: (imitating me crudely in this horrible high pitched voice I totally don't sound a thing like) OLIVER!**

**Me: I don't know why I'm friends with you.**

**Lilly: Me either. And somehow, I like you. No wonder Miley is confused.**

A question pooped up in my head. Er, popped. Hahahahaha. Pooped. I'm a gag.

**Me: Hey, Lilly?**

**Lilly: What?**

**Me: Do you really like me?**

**Lilly: RARARARARARARARARARRARARARRARA! (vomiting and gagging sounds)**

**Me: Okay, phew. Because otherwise, we'd have a little bit of a mess on our hands.**

**Lilly: I can't believe you even asked me that, you… disgusting… troll!**

**Me: Trent's the troll, not me!**

**Lilly: Irregardless, you're related to it.**

**Me: How'd you know I call Trent 'It'? Have you been in my diary?! I mean, JOURNAL?!**

**Lilly: What are you freaking seizuring about?**

I'm surprised I didn't just poop my pants right there on the spot. No, I don't mean pop this time… considering that would mean seizures turn me on… and um, no, they don't… have you ever seen one, Stupid? Well, duh, of course you haven't, but they are pretty frightening… anyways, what the heck am I talking about? Oh yes, I didn't pop, I about _pooped_ my pants. Because I was hundred percent sure at that moment, Lilly had read you again.

**Me: OH MY GOD, THAT'S PROOF! YOU HAVE!!**

**Lilly: No I haven't? Calm down, please?**

Her confusion made me turn bright red for a second, and I was happy that we were over the phone.

**Me: Um, then never mind. Anyways, so, uh, do you think Miley's jealous?!**

**Lilly: Uh, no.**

**Me: Great!**

**Lilly: I said no.**

**Me: She'll dump worm-rat in no time!**

**Lilly: Worm-rat? Oliver, did Dr. Harms put you on medication and have you been taking it?**

I purposely ignored her.

**Me: I'm so happy.**

**Lilly: OLIVER!**

**Me: What?!**

**Lilly: Miley is not jealous!**

**Me: Yes she is! She loves me!**

**Lilly: As a brother!**

**Me: Or a pet fish! And people marry their pets these days!**

**Lilly: Oh my God. I can't believe you just said that. I bet you she isn't. She's only upset because I 'kept a secret from her' that doesn't even exist!**

**Me: Nope. She even looked jealous to me when I told her! I just now realized it.**

**Lilly: I'll prove to you she isn't then.**

**Me: How?**

**Lilly: We're dating.**

Lilly was right... us dating... my stomach does not agree with it.

**Me: WHAT?! Hell no we aren't! Dad already thinks we—**

I choked.

**Me: Oh, wow, look at the time—**

**Lilly: What did your dad think?**

**Me: I have basketball practice. Gotta go!**

**Lilly: OLIVER!**

**Me: What?! He didn't suggest we might've had the 's' word together!! OH MY GOD, I HAVE BASKETBALL PRACTICE. NOW.**

**Lilly: 'S' word? You mean like se—**

**Me: S-S-SEVERAL ICE CREAM SUNDAES! Yeah! That's right! He thinks we shared ice cream!**

**Lilly: … okay. But whatever, go along to your basketball practice. But as of today, we're dating.**

I refused to go along pretending I was dating someone who puts my self-esteem down at a constant rate. Also, someone who deliberately steals food out of my refrigerator, because that should be a federal crime to a guy.

**Me: No!**

**Lilly: Yes!**

**Me: NOOOO!**

**Lilly: Oliver! Think about it! If Miley is truly jealous, then maybe this will get a reaction out of her so you guys can go run along to the Bahamas and make a thousand troll babies that will serve you your stupid pizza rolls!**

**Me: With ranch! Er, but NOOOO—wait, maybe you're right…**

Her thought process wasn't totally screwed up I guess, despite this being Lilly we're referring to… I mean, I'm pretty sure the girl was dropped on her head when she was born.

**Lilly: Maybe? I'm always right.**

**Me: No you aren't. And this will prove that Miley is jealous of our relationship. Oh, Tiger Lilly, me and you? Who'd have thunk it?**

**Lilly: Apparently your dad.**

**Me: W-what?!**

**Lilly: Well, he thinks we had ice cream sundaes together or something, right?**

**Me: …Of course…** **_Ice cream_... _that_'s what we had.**

**Lilly: But we didn't.**

**Me: DANG RIGHT WE DIDN'T!!**

**Lilly: O…kay. Well, boyfriend… (fades off into hacking)**

**Me: Whoa, you okay?**

**Lilly: Sorry. Saying that word while referring to you… yeah, I'm gonna throw up. Bye.**

Then came the dial tone. I wanted to go throw myself down in a pillow and hopefully drown myself in tears, but for one, I am Man, and Man doesn't cry, Woman does. Unfortunately, I had no pillow because I was finally arriving at my lousy basketball practice where Jerk Rat was avoiding me to the point where he couldn't even stand to be four feet away from me for some reason, which was cool, and it was also cool because the Big Ham only gave me one swirly instead of two since he didn't have Jerk Rat to impress for some reason. So after that, I had my appointment with Dr. Harms, where—

Holy hell. Someone's banging outside my window.

MURDERER!!

I'd add more exclamation points, Stupid, but I have no time because I think I'm gonna die!!

* * *

**Thursday, December 27****th****, 2:17 p.m., kitchen.**

Dear Stupid,

Well.

You will never believe who was outside my house at two in the morning.

Although, I suppose it's pretty hard to believe anyone would be outside my house considering the last time this happened (a year ago or so), I tried throwing my TV out the window, when it was only Jackson who had gotten locked out of his house. It was a pretty big deal since I almost put the love of my life's older brother into a coma.

So, yeah. Mom went a little psycho at that time.

I guess maybe I do need a psychiatrist after all. Throwing TV's out windows is not typical teenage behavior. I think.

But anyways, this is something I would generally make up, since it was kind of like winning the lottery. Except, I didn't win this lottery. She's worth it, though.

HA! See, Lilly! I can be sweet and thoughtful SOMETIMES!!

Er.

ANYWAYS.

When I first heard the banging, I did the only thing I could think of.

I screamed like a baby girl and jumped back into my bed and hid under the covers, like any logical, intelligent being would.

And then I kept thinking that this monster was gonna crash through my window and gobble me up like the chicken I was.

But the banging only got louder, which was really irritating, since, um, hello, did they honestly think I was stupid enough that I was gonna lift up the blinds and let in the thief? If you're gonna steal something, you're supposed to be _discreet_ about it!

So I looked around for some kind of weapon, and I saw my new TV planted in the middle of my room…

_Nah._

I used the next best thing, though. Obviously one of the troll's toy dinosaurs he left under my mattress.

TA-DA! The pateradactil!!

Yeah. I cannot spell that word to save the life of me. Just know it's like this giant bird thing that kinda creeps me out the most out of all dinosaurs since it has a huge beak that could carry me away to its little pateradactil babies. Then it'd somehow convince the pateradactil babies that I am a disgusting worm, when really Jerk Rat is, and feed me to them. Do pateradactil babies even eat worms? Hmm… I'd hope so. Because as soon as the world figures out a time machine thing, I'm sending Jerk Rat back to dinosaur age, where he will be mistaken as garbage or a worm for the pateradactil babies. Yay.

…….God. I am weird.

So yeah, with my pateradactil, I edged towards my window. Of course, Stupid, I was scared crapless. But with my pateradactil on my side, I felt a little better. I could stab its beak into my intruder.

I counted to seven before I opened the blinds. Yeah, seven. I decided three was way too short of a time because when I got to three, I wanted to stab myself with the pateradactil.

My god, I need to look up the spelling of that word.

So when the blinds zoomed upwards, I screamed bloody murder because there was a disfigured lady from the Blue Lagoon outside my window, with a blackened face and a scary brown afro.

Afro Woman screamed back just as terrified, until I recognized the scream, and squinted my eyes.

"Miley?" I said, confused.

She stopped screaming and started saying a bunch of things, but due to my window being closed, the glass between us kinda shut out my ears to what she was saying.

I opened my window in the middle of her rant and helped her come inside. Mom would have a heart attack if she knew I was having a girl in my room, let alone THE girl.

For the first time I'd ever seen her, Miley didn't really look pretty at all. She looked… hurt. And scared. And kinda like Medusa.

Except her hair wasn't like hissing at me, which was a relief since snakes can go _die_ ever since that time at the zoo when I was six and a boa constrictor got loose and I thought it was trying to hug me because it liked me or something, but um, no, it wasn't, I guess. The zoo people told me I just looked like an easy snack since I was so short. Wonderful scarring sentence, Stupid, let me tell you.

She also couldn't be Medusa because when she looked at me, I didn't turn to stone, which was another relief since… well, who wants to be a rock all their life? Hellooo, booooring.

But somehow, despite her horrible appearance, I still had to resist all urges not to just kiss her right then and there.

She was sniffling and wiping at her black face, which I'm guessing is from some make-up stuff that Miley and Lilly coat on their eyes probably every five seconds during one of our classes together.

Then she suddenly stopped being so upset and looked me up and down really funnily, which I found awkward since I didn't know why she was doing this. So I made a huge mistake and raised an eyebrow at her, and she burst out into tears all over again… who knew one of my eyebrows could make a girl so hysterical? I mean, are they really that unplucked or "belong to Big Foot", as Lilly tells me daily?

"Miley, what's wrong? What are you doing here?" I asked tentatively, setting down my pateradactil, and helped her sit onto my bed.

"Ahblahya murr murr dada pluuuuuuuuuuuums," she replied simply.

Meaning, she was crying too hard for me to understand.

I nodded anyways, like I understood, and I decided to grow some balls. Well, use them, since I do have them, believe or not, LILLY. I _don't_ need to grow them.

So I used my balls to take Miley into my arms. Er. That sounds horrible. My balls could not pick up anyone into my arms. That's a bit impossible to do.

ANYWAYS, she stiffened at first when I moved her there, then relaxed back into my chest, and I just… I don't know… held her for like, ever. And I petted her hair, which was really ratty for some reason, not like I had imagined at all when I would think about one day stroking her hair. I tried not to feel disgusted because it was a bit ridiculous to think of such a thing when the girl of my dreams had apparently just got into a train wreck or something.

"Shh, it's okay," I told her, and she cried into my chest some more, when I realized something. I figured out why she had looked me up and down because I was practically naked.

Practically being, just in my Looney Tune boxers.

I wanted to die. And my chest was now very wet with Miley's tears.

The Roadrunner stared mockingly up at me from my crotch. I never wished more in my life for that damn coyote to come eat it. Except, that would kinda hurt considering where the Roadrunner's face was……. Um, wow, ouch.

I wanted to pry her off of me, I felt so embarrassed, but apparently, she didn't care. She was just upset about whatever, and for some reason, came to _my_ house instead of Lilly's in the middle of the night…

It was not how I pictured lying down in my bed with Miley at all. Yeah, that's right, WE WERE IN BED TOGETHER. I AM THE MAN. But we weren't in bed… sexually. I would never take advantage of her like that, Stupid.

Oh well, I am still THE MAN, BAAAAAAAAAABY!!

I must've stroked her messy hair about three trillion and fifty-three more times before I realized her sniffling had stopped and she had fallen asleep.

In _my_ bed.

At two in the morning.

_With me_.

I didn't have any other choice but to go right to sleep with a smile that I figured might break my jaw off my face in the middle of the night.

I didn't think about what my mom would say.

What dad would say.

What Jackson would say.

What Lilly would say.

Or even what the troll would say. (Like, when do I ever care about his opinion on matters anyway?)

What HER dad would think…

I didn't think at all, Stupid.

So, waking up in the morning with Miss Gorgeous in my arms… with me basically naked…

Yeah.

Things got a little bit on the crazy side.

When the door opened in the morning—

Shit. Later. I think Miley's dad is here.

I think I'm in for some Tennessee talking to.

……Or death.

Aren't they the same thing anyways?

Okay, wow, bye... Maybe forever.

* * *

I know… I'm cruel. I tend to leave you wanting to read more to see what happens. And you will… next chapter. Bwaha. Your questions about Miley's crying and why she went to Oliver's will be answered! Hooray. For now, just review, pretty please?

P.S. I know how to spell pterodactyls, so don't flood me with reviews telling me how. Oliver doesn't know how to spell it, mk? Mk, great.


	19. Gutterhead

Okay, so on the Moliverfans boards, I had just posted a message YESTERDAY saying I got writer's block and that I didn't think I'd get past it. But, somehow, I totally _did _get past it and came up with this chapter. It was my fourth time writing it that I got it down how I wanted it.

It's more perverted than I intended, however, but I think it works since Oliver is a seventeen-year-old boy with raging hormones, okay? Lmao. Hopefully you guys still love it… and me. There's Moliver fluff for you to enjoy, so meh!

And after this, there's only one more deathly-long chapter and an 'epilogue' of sorts left.

Wow. I have come a long, long way.

Don't want to keep you waiting any longer. I'll shut up.

_Disclaimer_: Pointless to say because you already know.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**CHAPTER NINETEEN: Gutterhead

* * *

**Thursday, December 27th, 3:54 p.m., HELL!! Okay, just my bedroom, but whatever, same thing.**

Dear Stupid,

You know that TV show? Grounded for Life or something, I think? Oh, what am I saying, you don't watch TV. Er, do you? I mean, I always leave you in my room, and sometimes I leave the TV on, so I can understand why you'd watch it. I'd get really bored just being a stupid blue notebook with a bunch of rambles of my love for Miley inside me.

Oh my God. I mean, my love for Miley. It totally just looked like I said "love for Miley being inside of me".

Hahahahahahaha. I'm funny. Miley would have to have a you-know-what to be inside of me. And she doesn't, I'm pretty sure. I'd be the one inside of _her_.

Holy Hell. _That's_ all being crossed out.

My God. I was actually talking to you like you are a real person, Stupid. Lilly's right; I really don't have friends. Well, guy friends. I think I need them if this is what having girl SPACE friends do to a person. I need my space.

Er, not myspace, like myspace with that Tom fellow. I meant… My _space_ space. Myspace really doesn't give you your own space, contrary to its name. Everyone sees everything you put on the dumb thing. And those stupid _bulletins_. Supposedly, I should've died about eighty-one times in my sleep for not reposting things. I'm like, _"HA! I'm invincible, bitcheeees!"_

Uh.

ANYWAYS.

Back to that TV show, Grounded for Life. Well, that's me.

I am grounded. For life.

I'm surprised Mom didn't add for _after_life, too, because I mean, with the way she has punished me, it's only fair I suffer in Heaven, too, the only place where you shouldn't have to. Then again, she can't make that decision. She's not God… I hope. That'd be a shocker since God supposedly sees everything you do, and there are just some things that I don't think even God should have the right to see, and definitely not your own MOTHER…

For instance, when I get all "happy", I don't think Mom or _God_ needs to see _that_. I mean, wow, that'd be rude, God, and um, slightly homosexual. He was man once, right? He's gotta be understanding about it; he's gotta know it's embarrassing enough to be "happy" by yourself, let alone when other people are around.

Whoa. I totally have to wonder if Jesus got erections.

I have a one-track, gutterhead mind today or something. Um, wow.

I guess it'll give me something to do, though, to think about, during this boring time of boring times. I'm confined to my house unless I'm going to Dr. Harms's or basketball practice.

Which means, no random visits to Miley's where I can pretend I'm there to steal oranges out of the refridgerator, when really, I'm there to just kinda stare at her.

That rhymed, Stupid. I am a rapper, fasho… izzle.

But yeah, so not getting to go over to Miley's… That blows.

What also blows? Whores. Haahahaha, no, but really. Dang, my mind really is a gutterhead today. I better hope no one ever sees this entry. Actually, I'm just going to tear it out after I write. Yeah. That works.

But what I was _going_ to say blows, is that because of this whole grounded thing, I can't go to Jake's New Years party. Of course, I thought this wouldn't upset me, but it really, really does. Whether Miley is my girlfriend or not, I don't wanna go into the new year without her.

I mean, I can just see one of two things happening.

1. The clock strikes twelve, and everybody celebrates in their love's arms, except me. Miley and Jake start making out to the point of where they become, like, attached at the tongues, and I barf everywhere. Jerk Rat included.

or

2. The clock strikes twelve, and Miley makes a sudden decision that she no longer prefers Jerk Rat, and has been in love with me all her life and makes out with me, and we become attached at the tongues, and Jerk Rat can go barf. Just not on me.

I'm hoping for number two, I hate throwing up to the maximum. Except, now even hoping's useless since I can't even go.

Oh yeah. I should probably explain my being grounded.

This morning when I woke up seemed perfect.

There was this… smell around me, I remember. It was like intoxicating and it made me kinda dizzy, until I saw a mess of brown hair in my face. _Mm, strawberries_. I got hungry because I… since when do I need to explain my hungriness? … Anyways….

The mess of brown hair moved away from me, so the really, really fantastic smelling smell did, too. I wasn't thinking at all except that I thought maybe that I was dreaming and chased after the hair in a daze and buried my face into it. I breathed in the amazing smell, growing dizzy again. I was smiling all stupidly, too, and hugging onto a petite, warm pillow between the hair and me.

My pillow was alive, Stupid.

It was like, "I love you."

And as much as I love being appreciated by inanimate, fluffy objects, I had to freak out just an eensy little bit.

I lifted my head lazily. "Whuh?"

As my eyesight grew clearer, I saw that I was not hugging a pillow at all. I was hugging… a girl. And it was not just any girl; it was Miley freaking Stewart. And there were angels singing. And, and it was morning. And she was in my bed. And I felt like dying. And she had just told me she loved me. And I couldn't breathe. And I felt like dying. And I couldn't untangle myself. And stuff.

And I felt like dying.

"Miley?" I squeaked.

She moved her body around to position herself on her back. So, with my arms being caught around her back, I was dragged on top of her. I squeaked again, and my face burned violently when I realized how wrong this looked… but, oh baby, oh so _right_. Ehehehe. Keep that between you and I, Stupid.

I noticed her eyes weren't open, but she had a giant smile on her face. And then her smile let out a giggle.

"Yeees?" she asked in a playful tone, now running her hands gently through my hair.

I would've pinched myself, but, um, my arms were kinda… falling asleep under her. It was truly like some sick fantasy of mine come true.

"Happiness", if you know what I mean, Stupid, had arrived when her breath tickled my cheeks. I couldn't move because of it. I wonder if she felt—never mind.

So I was very sure, like to the ninety-nine point nine percent sure variety kind of sure, that I was going to die if I didn't regain the ability to breathe back soon. I was so struck with what was going on that I ended up counting the seconds as Miley's nose inched towards mine.

Two and a half seconds, Stupid, that's all it took, and our noses were touching. It was like… magic. Like, our noses were each other's soul mates.

I sucked in my breath (not like I was breathing anyways, but whatever). I could kiss her if I only moved forward a mere centimeter. And, she loved me. She _said_ so. Everything would be okay. She would kiss back if she loved me.

I struggled to remember how to kiss someone. It's been too long, Stupid, give me a break. The only kisses I ever get are from my Mom. It grosses me out every time she does that, too, and the troll figures that out and tries to kiss me, too, so I run away in terror.

Anyways, I was thinking about how to kiss her, when suddenly, her eyes flitted open, a small smile still visible on her face. I didn't smile back, I kinda forgot how to, just like kissing _and_ breathing, but then her eyes widened, along her mouth…

_Shit._

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

I was pushed backwards off the bed, and onto the floor, not to mention made _deaf _as she screamed and thrashed about in the sheets of my bed. I came to realize again that I was half-naked, and that Miley was probably as shocked as I was at that, and started throwing stuff at me as she screamed, like all my pillows one by one.

I panicked when she got a hold of the pateradactil, Stupid. That sucker has a sharp beak.

"Miley, please calm down!" I said, my heart going out of control.

"Calm down?" she shrieked. "HOW CAN I CALM DOWN WHEN YOU TOOK ADVANTAGE OF ME?!"

I was horrified. "I WOULD NEVER, NEVER, NEVER DO THAT! NEVER!" I yelled back.

She held the pateradactil up in the air threateningly. I stepped backwards, slightly tripping on my shirt from the night before.

"Don't make me do it, Oliver. Tell the truth. Why are you naked!"

"I'm not naked! I have boxers on!"

Miley's greebluay eyes darted to the lower half of my body, then her face turned crimson.

"Whatever! Why are you… in Looney Tune… boxers…"

Then her anger transformed into amusement, and she started dying of laughter.

I stared at her. "_What?_ The Roadrunner is bad ass."

"OLIVER OSCAR OKEN! What's all that noise?!"

I froze and Miley did, too. That was my mom's Man Voice coming from outside the hallway.

"Your _dad_ is here?" Miley asked quietly.

"No, that's my mom! Now hide and be quiet!" I ran at Miley, hoisting her by the waist, and she gasped in surprise as I shoved her into my closet _just_ as my mom walked in.

I blushed, knowing my mom was looking at me in my boxers, something I still had a huge problem with throughout all the years.

She looked at me suspiciously. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I, um, um."

"Bathroom," coughed the closet, trying to sound deep and manly.

I froze again and then fake coughed myself. "Uh, _cough_, yeah, _cough_ had to go to bathroom. Never drink five gallons of Mountain Dew before bed, Mom. It's a bad idea… _Cough._"

I should win an award for acting, Stupid.

My mom walked over and inspected my sheets. I blushed again, realizing how the pillows were scattered everywhere but on the bed. Thanks to Miley. I couldn't believe I was holding the girl hostage in my closet either.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Ollie," Mom said, rolling her eyes before catching sight of something on my bed. "Wait, what's this?"

The tone of her voice did not sound pretty.

"What's what?" I asked quickly.

She held up a tiny brown thing. "This."

"You're asking me? I'm a boy, Mom. Only girls know what those things are."

She put her hands on her hips. "Exactly my point. What are you doing with a bobby pin in your bed, hm?"

I stumbled into the closet doors behind me, rattling the handles, and I heard a crash from within the closet, and the sound of Miley's gasp.

"Who's in there?" Mom asked immediately, looking fierce, and striding forward.

I placed myself between the closet and her, yet still not letting her come in contact with my half-naked body. "Um, just Trent!"

"Why is Trent in your closet? He needs to come out."

"I had no idea you thought Trent was gay," I said.

She glared, apparently not thinking my joke was very funny, but I, on the other hand, Stupid, thought it was very clever and hilarious.

"Oliver Oscar Oken," came the Man Voice. "Open the closet."

I winced. "I… can't."

"And why not?"

"You'll be mad."

"I'm already mad," she growled, taking me by the shoulder and moving me away. I tried jumping forward again, but she had already grabbed the closet handles and thrust the door open. I cringed.

Miley was sitting down in there, smiling uncomfortably, with a monster mountain of some of my clothes on top of her.

"H-hey, Oliver's mom," she said softly, waving a hand, which she immediately withdrew when she saw it was covered by one of my gym socks.

I could see my mom counting to three in her head.

"Oliver…" she said gently and pointed to Miley. "What is this?"

I craned my head around my mom to look closer at Miley, who was now terrified.

"I think it's a girl, Mom," I said with a blink, then noticing a pair of black jeans on Miley's lap. "And hey, I was looking for these!" I grabbed them happily, holding them up.

"Oliver, why is Miley in your closet? You have _ten seconds_ to answer."

I was barely paying attention; I was too smug about finding my jeans. "Oh, I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"9… 8…"

"Huh? Why are you counting backwards?"

"7…6…"

Miley was glaring at me. I suddenly understood as my mom got to "4".

"Mom! No! You see, nothing happened. Nothing!"

"Really?" Mom repeated, sounded anything but convinced. "Then why was she in your bed? And why was Oliver junior looking at me when I got in here?"

I looked at her, confused. "Oliver junior? What the heck are you talking about?"

She gave a nod to my boxers, and color flooded to my cheeks and I placed my hands in front of my crotch.

"OH MY GOD, YOU SICKO! NOT IN FRONT OF MILEY! WHAT KIND OF MOTHER ARE YOU?!"

Miley leaned forward, crimson-faced as well, and closed the closet door to separate us.

My mom rolled her eyes. "You know, I always expected maybe Lilly to be hiding in your closet someday, not Miley."

I grabbed at my face in frustrated embarrassment. "MOM! Seriously! Nothing went on! Miley was just upset and she came over here for me to cheer her up!"

_Trust me,_ I was thinking. _I would not be so stressed out if we had really done anything._

"Likely story. What was wrong with her then?"

"I… I don't know! She was speaking another language when she was crying! It sounded like she was complaining about the taste of plums!" My mom gave me another doubtful look, and I added, "Oh, c'mon, Mom! Taste of plums?! You can't make that stuff up!"

My mom re-opened the closet's door, and Miley pretended to be interested in the ceiling.

"Miley, is that true? Did the taste of plums upset you?"

She squinted her eyes, puzzled. "What? Plums? I've never even had one before."

"Then what was so upsetting to you?"

Miley fidgeted with one of my shirts in her hands. "Um, I can't really tell you."

My mom raised an eyebrow and turned back to me. "Well, I'm glad that doing it in your bed cheered her up. I'm calling her dad," and left before I could chuck the pateradactil at her head.

Suddenly she came back in, but only just her head. "Miley, I wouldn't try escaping if I were you."

Miley didn't move. Her face was strained in anger, but yet very fearful. I looked at her nervously, biting my lip as my mom's head disappeared just as quickly as it had came back.

"My mom likes you. Really," I tried.

Miley glared and crossed her arms. "Mhm, she _loooves_ the fact that we did it on your bed."

I blushed as my insides swirled, and my hormones inside me pumped excitedly.

_"We did it?!"_

"No, you idiot, we _definitely_ didn't. That would be called taking advantage of me, which you swore you didn't do," she said and rolled her eyes.

"Don't get mad at me," I said, glaring. "You're the one who barged in here at two in the morning and fell asleep in my bed with me."

Now it was her turn to blush. "_Excuse_ me. Lilly wouldn't answer her damn phone, and wouldn't answer to me throwing rocks at her window. I had to go somewhere!"

"Why not home? That sounds logical to me."

She mumbled something.

"What?"

She mumbled something again, only a little louder, yet still not comprehensible.

"WHAT?" I asked louder, now irritated.

It all seemed to come out of her mouth so fast. Haha, that sounds gross. Oh my God, not the time for gutter balls, Oliver.

"I told my dad I was sleeping at Lilly's so I could go to a party with Jake! But Jake disappeared when we got to the party, and I got lost in the mansion, and weird creepy old guys with Santa Clause beards were hitting on me, and I started to cry and run away, and I thought they were following me, and you were the closest house from the party, otherwise I'd have to run home in the dark all alone and—"

I lunged for her and brought the hyperventilating girl into my arms. She stiffened against my nakedness, but then relaxed. I hugged her very tightly and it was like angels singing in my bedroom.

"I really hate him, you know," I said bravely.

"Jake?"

"Yeah. He's a dumb, ugly rat."

Miley lifted her head from my shoulder, staring at me. "That's weird. Lilly's been referring to him as Jerk Rat for a while now. She doesn't like him much either, I guess."

_I hate Lilly, too,_ I wanted to say then.

All of a sudden Miley seemed to realize something after her statement and jumped away from me. "Oh my God. Lilly's going to _kill _me!"

"Why? No gift for your week-a-versary thing?"

She shook her head. "No. I mean. I just spent the night with you."

"And it was wonderf—one heck of a night!" I caught myself just in time, except I still ended up blushing my head off.

"Yeah… but you guys are… _dating_ now."

I choked. I had completely forgotten Lilly and I's plan. Almost entirely.

"Er, she'll be okay."

Miley shook her head sadly. "No, she really likes you. I can't believe I did this to her. You guys are probably gonna break up now, all because of me."

"_Really likes me?_" I shrieked, terrified. "NOOOO!"

Miley stared.

"I mean… yay," I peeped with no enthusiasm whatsoever.

She kept staring, but now she seemed suspicious of my behavior. "Okay then… well, I better start writing my will."

"I've already written mine."

She blinked.

"Er, I mean, yeah, me, too!"

She slumped to her feet, so I did, too. In a quick movement, her arms wrapped around me and brought me into a bone-crushing hug, but hey, how could I complain, Stupid? Not only was I half-naked, but the girl I loved was hugging my half-nakedness.

KACHOWWWW.

"I'm sorry I'm getting you in trouble," she muttered against my collarbone.

I smiled goofily, stroking her back. "Nah, it's okay."

"Thanks for everything, though. I mean, you didn't even know what was wrong, but you let me… sleep with you." Her head jumped back from me. "Er, just sleep next to you. Not like… what your mom thinks."

I grinned. "You wish, Miles."

Her mouth twitched into a smirk. "Psh, whatever." I melted.

"You're the one who told me you loved me this morning," I said, raising my eyebrows up and down at her. I felt pretty good when her face blushed and looked down at the ground.

"I must've still been asleep... I was... dreaming."

I was likee, deflated when she said that, but whatever. Nothing I'm not used to.

My mom poked her head back into my room then. "Miley, your dad's here and he wants to speak with you alone for a few minutes."

Miley nodded solemnly and looked to me with a weird expression I'd never seen in her eyes before. I can't describe it totally, but as she walked away, she took another glance back at me.

And I swear, Stupid, and I'm not just saying this, but I'm pretty sure she was totally _checking me out_. Her eyes went up and down my half-nakedness, then left without a word.

I fell backwards onto my bed and smiled to myself. Ah, she was wonderful, even if she was going to cause my grounded-for-life thing.

That's when I decided to go ahead and get dressed and wrote the last entry in here, Stupid. And then I was interrupted by Miley's dad wanting to "speak" with me, or in my opinion, scare me to death.

Know how that went down?

Here, it is, in script form.

**Me: (walking out of my room into kitchen, and noticing no one but Miley's dad was present) Er, hello, Mr. Stewart.**

**Him: (scarily) Hello boy. I hear you slept with my daughter last night.**

**Me: (freaking out) I didn't SLEEP with her! I mean, okay, yeah, I was sleeping, and so was she! But not like… like… oh, you know!**

**Him: How come she slept in your bed with you then?**

**Me: She was upset about something and needed comfort.**

**Him: So, sex is comfort, hm?**

**Me: (blushing at the word) WE DID NOT DO IT! I swear, Mr. Stewart! Didn't she tell you that herself?**

**Him: Yes. But it's hard to believe a girl and a boy… not to mention, teenagers… sleeping in the same bed together overnight without doing _anything_. I was your age once, boy. I had hormones.**

It was not anything I wanted to hear, believe me, Stupid. I don't ever want to hear anything about the girl-I-love's dad having hormones.

**Me: Er, yes, but I would never do that to her. She's my best friend, sir.**

**Him: I see the way you are with her, though.**

**Me: What?**

**Him: The things you do for her are more than what I ever did to my best friends. Just little stuff. Like, the way you look at her, and you are always helping her out when she needs it…**

**Me: But, but, but that doesn't mean anything really. She's just my best friend.**

**Him: Best friend or not, there's definitely something there lying under the surface. (sighs) But I'm going to take your word for it for now and believe you didn't do anything… I'm trusting you, boy, and if I ever find out anything different…**

He did this thing where he popped each and every one of his knuckles separately. In short, scaring me crapless.

**Me: Of course, sir. If you ever need to ask me anything, um, just call me up. I'm sure Mom's going to make me live in Amish living for the rest of my teenhood.**

**Him: Ah, no she won't. I know her.**

**Me: She, she won't?**

**Him: She'll make you have Amish living for the rest of your _life_, boy.**

Yeah, and he was totally right. Because my mom did ground me for the rest of my life. Ugh, kill me. I cannot stand this jail any longer.

Thank God for my psychiatrist appointment in an hour…

Oh, hold on, Stupid, I'm getting a phone call.

* * *

**4:34 p.m., same place.**

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

It was my dad.

He was like, "Your mother told me about last night's little activities. Did you ever use that money for the condoms?"

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

* * *

**Two minutes later.**

Okay, I've recovered. I totally hung up on him when he asked that, too, just so you know.

Miley texted me. Yay. It was lovely. She said, "hey."

I was like, "Yo baby lets run away together".

Not really. I said, "hey," too. I'm a chicken shit.

But then she told me that she was grounded, too. So that meant she was going to miss Jake's New Years party.

I was like, "oh em gee, no way, me too". Without the Oh Em Gee.

I smiled really big, too.

Then, like she was reading my mind or something, she sent me a smiley-face.

God, we are so meant to be, it is ridiculous.

Too bad we won't be able to go to the party on Monday. I was thinking about telling her how I feel that night, whether she was still with that wormy jackass who left her at the party or not.

We could sneak out, I guess.

Whoa.

We could actually _totally_ sneak out.

Oh my God, I'm texting Miley.

The party is _on._

* * *

Aw, the fic is almost done! It's bittersweet for me. I'll miss the Oliver I've created and all his messed up, weirdo thoughts. Ah well. After this is done, I have another fic already pretty much done, so I can promise quick updates, and I'm pretty proud of that one, too.

For now, just review and make me smile.


	20. Tropicana

Greetings!

My God, I am retarded.

ANYWAYS, sorry for the lack of update thing… I just graduated and turned eighteen and work and blah blah blah, it's so hard to find time to write anymore. Excuses, excuses, I know.

But yeah, this chapter is ridiculously long, and was gonna be longer, but I wanted to get this out quicker… so the epilogue after this… yeah, it's no longer gonna be an epilogue, it'll just be a chapter, and the last thing I'll ever update on this story.

So, so sad.

Hopefully this chapter will entertain you until the last update because I don't know when that'll be. It'll have to be on a day like today where I was actually able to sit down at my computer for hours and just TYPE. Which rarely happens anymore.

So, hopefully you enjoy!

_Disclaimer_: Never. Well. Then again, never say never, right? Bahaha.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER TWENTY: Tropicana

* * *

**Friday, December 28th, 2:00 p.m., my room.**

Dear Stupid,

Miley and I are sneaking out on Monday to go to Worm-rat's party. Lilly (my _girlfriend_, **gag**) is helping us.

I really can't write much else today. You know, with BEING CONFINED TO THE JAIL CELL OF MY ROOM. Not a whole lot of topics to consider talking about.

Oh… my mom even took away my pizza rolls.

It was _horrible._

I walked to the kitchen today to get something to eat, and I smelt them. My heart was like out of control at the amazing scent, but then I looked at the table.

Trolliver was sitting there, plopping the pizza rolls one by one into its mouth, looking like a smug little troll who finally managed to eat one of the goats crossing the bridge. Except, the goats were substituted with pizza rolls.

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!" I screamed.

Mom flew into the kitchen.

And I was sent back to my room.

Starving, mind you.

Mom is evil.

So is the troll. God. Everyone in my family is just plain evil. I half-think sometimes Mom did the Big Nasty with Satan and produced a troll, and Dad was like, "OMG, that is the ugliest thing I've ever seen, meaning you had to have cheated on me," and _that's_ why they divorced.

She probably thinks the devil's hot.

… hot… hahaha… Oh man, that was unintentionally clever of me.

Well, bye.

* * *

**Same day, 10:14 p.m., my room.**

Dear Stupid,

Yeah, Mom totally did the Big Nasty with Satan.

She took away my Xbox 360 privileges in my room.

Which means, I'm going to go look for a rope and hang myself.

Because really, what else is there to do in this room besides, oh, I don't know, breathe?! I can't even like jump on my awesome bed because Mrs. Satan will come up here and electric shock my ass like she's freaking Pikachu with her little zap-things from the police station.

At least the day is almost over.

* * *

**Few minutes later.**

This day will not effing end.

* * *

**More minutes later.**

I think I'll grow some balls.

No, not literally, Stupid. As if you can actually go buy testicle seeds at the flea market! HA! That would be great. Not really. Who would grow those in their garden? Talk about awkward. "Oh, hello my three-year-old girl cousin, this is my garden. Here we have the tulips, the roses, the daisies, and oh! The testicles!" Yeah, that's just like, asking for the birds-and-bees talk.

But really, I'm gonna go grow some balls and call Miley. For the sure heck of it.

* * *

**2:09 a.m.**

Dear Stupid,

I just got off.

…THE PHONE WITH MILEY! Sicko!!

It was great. We talked for such a long time. I can't really remember what about, though… oh yeah. How the phone call ended… _that_ was bad.

Really embarrassing-almost-told-the-truth-of-my-emotions thing happened. Yeah, _that_ bad. We talked about superpowers for some weirdo reason. Don't get me wrong, Stupid, I don't mean to diss on people with superpowers, cause they're like, awesome, and anyone who has them is like, luckiest SOB alive.

So yeah. I was all, "What superpower would you want to have if you could have one?"

And she's like, "I wanna fly."

And I said, "But planes do that."

God, I'm switching to script mode.

**Miley: And your point is?**

**Oliver. I mean, me. What the hell?: It's such a boring answer. Think of something original.**

**Miley: Well then… I'd want to be able to have any guy I want. With the snap of my fingers. Like BAM! You're mine!**

**Me: You don't have to snap your fingers for me.**

YEAH. I freaking said that. Out loud.

And it got quiet.

And then my lack-of-brains kicked in.

**My lack of brains (it gets its own title): Well, I'm going to sleep. Love you. Night.**

I used the L Card.

The L Card.

Not the V Card. (Well, um, definitely not, I'd prefer my first time with Miley to not be on the phone, ew.)

THE L CARD.

Not the Lasagna Card.

The… Love Card.

I will not be surprised if I wake up and Miley has left the country in fear of my feelings to become a Spanish pop star by the name of Lexi…co Mexico.

Lexico Mexico.

I need sleep. Wow. Night.

Crap. Miley is calling me back. No doubt to be like, "Oliver, you are a dumb boy. There are other fish in the sea."

I say, screw fish. Not literally. Ew.

But, Mileys, they're good. I like Mileys.

* * *

**Saturday, December 29****th****, 12:39 p.m., kitchen.**

Dear Stupid,

Miley's not left the country yet. I don't think she's created a third identity as Lexico Mexico either. She is still living here in Malibu. I think. Or she's just not telling me she is.

Girlfriend texted me.

Okay, that is probably the most vomit-inducing sentence ever.

Lilly texted me.

_Much _better.

She said, "u tlked 2 ur lil loveywovey last nite didnt u?"

It's so weird that I'm supposed to be dating this woman… er, girl…thing…person and they refer to another girl as my 'loveywovey'.

I said, "yep. Howd u kno?"

She hasn't responded yet, so I'm guessing it's a longer text.

But yeah, the reason why Miley called me back is 'cause she had to ask me a question about _orange juice_….

No joke, Stupid. It didn't make sense why she asked me _at all_.

**Miley: Hey, sorry, I just forgot to ask you something.**

**Me: (freaking out because like, I was thinking about the L Card thing) WHAT?**

**Miley: OW! My ear!**

**Me: What?! What's wrong with your ear?!**

**Miley: Stop yelling into the phone, donut.**

**Me: Oh… right. Of course.**

**Miley: NOW… what I was gonna ask… is… uh…**

**Me: Lose your train of thought?**

**Miley: Ummm… sure.**

**Me: Well, CHOO CHOO! Here it comes again!**

**Miley: Wow, Oliver, go to sleep. You need it.**

**Me: Nonsense.**

**Miley: Nonsense?**

**Me: Yep.**

**Miley: Oooookay… Oh, I, uh, remember now.**

**Me: See?! Told you the train was back.**

**Miley: Right. Um. So. Do… you… do you…**

**Me: Do I what? (thinking: Take your hand in marriage? Why, of course.)**

**Miley: Do you… like… let's say… um… do you have feel—do you like Sunny Dee or Tropicana?**

**Me: …Are you serious?**

**Miley: Yeah, I know it's an odd question but—**

**Me: SUNNY DEE, DUH! How can you even ASK that question?!**

**Miley: Oh. Okay. Um, what if… you liked Tropicana, too?**

**Me: I dunno. Since when do I have to pick between orange juices?**

**Miley: Er, you don't. But um, say you have… Sunny Dee. And you also like Tropicana. You like them equally. But then, Sunny Dee becomes… more liked so it becomes part of your refrigerator. Would you still want Tropicana?**

Miley was totally metaphorically speaking without even realizing it.

**Me: (nervous) Miley… what the hell are you talking about?**

**Miley: I'd just like to know your orange juice preferences?**

**Me: Ohhh. (sigh of relief) Well, in that case, I don't think I like Sunny Delight. It's more of a… had to have it kinda thing, but I don't really like it. Bad taste… ew. Okay. But Tropicana. Tropicana… Tropicana is sexy. Er, better tasting. I want Tropicana.**

**Miley: So what are you gonna do with the Sunny Delight? Throw it away?**

**Me: I'd want to, yeah, if Tropicana likes me. I mean, if Tropicana is available. Since it always seems to be out… and stuff.**

**Miley: Oh. Yeah. Well, that's all I wanted to know.**

**Me: Okay, good.**

**Miley: Good?**

**Me: I mean. Any other orange juice questions?**

**Miley: Don't think so.**

**Me: Alrighty. Well I'm going to sleep now.**

**Miley: Okay.****Me: Okay.**

**Miley: Okay.**

**Me: Okay.**

**Miley: 'Kay.**

**Me: 'Kay.**

**Miley: Night?**

**Me: Okay—night.**

Talk about weirdly awkward. Orange juice? Is Miley on crack?

OH! Text from Lilly. It says: "Miley called me & said u 2 talked & said she hopes im not mad at her or u cuz it was strictly friends business. I lol'd. strictly friends? she needs like glasses cuz shes blind not 2 c how u pine over her like a luvsick plunger."

_Plunger?_

I sent back, "Plunger? y am i a plunger?"

No response yet.

Or, well, never mind. I'm vibrating.

MY CELL PHONE'S VIBRATING IN MY POCKET, pervo, Stupid. Geesh.

Oh my God. Lilly is so dumb. She goes, "i was gonna say puppy but puppies r cute & ur not. so i had 2 think of somethin that started w/ a p that fit u. plunger works! :)"

My own 'girlfriend' (cough, puke, vomit city) doesn't even think I'm cute.

Life blooooows like a ho.

Er.

Like the wind, I mean.

Bye now.

* * *

**Sunday, December 30****th****, my room, 6:40 p.m., my room.**

Dear Stupid,

_Holy effing Hell!!_

You were missing for like twenty-four freaking hours! I had no idea where you went! It was like, absolutely terrible! I _died!!_

Seriously, Stupid. It wasn't cause I missed you. Well, okay, maybe a little bit, but I HAD NO IDEA WHO COULD'VE FOUND YOU AND

Okay, I totally just realized I put "my room" twice in my little heading of this entry. I had to cross it out. Okay, anywhoooo…

Can you imagine if MILEY found you?!

I can't. Well, okay, yes I can. It'd go like this—

Miley comes skipping into my room when I'm not there (I was allowed to go to the beach yesterday night with Lilly, which I'll get to in a minute) going, "La la la la," like the singing pro she is. She halts mid-skip and sees you, Stupid. And she's like, "Oh Em Gee, like, what is this little blue notebook that says PRIVATE, STAY THE HELL OUT in Oliver's handwriting? Let's be rebellious! Yay! I'm opening the book! I'm reading entries! And like, Oh Em Gee, Oliver's in love with me? Oh no! Pukey-wukey! Leaving the country! Lexico Mexico, here I come!"

Okay. So she probably wouldn't say that exactly, but the thought process would be pretty similar.

However, I don't think she was the one who took you. My suspicion? Oh, I don't know… someone who also lives in the same household as me… who's turned pro at ruining my life… maybe… TROLLIVER?! The little devil! Literally. Cause remember, it is Satan's child, thanks to Mom.

I'm pretty sure the troll took you, Stupid. Cause Trent would do something like that. Not like he could read anything in here and understand it…

You just _vanished_ last night. I went to the beach, and when I came home, YOU WERE NOT UNDERNEATH MY PILLOW! I freaked out for about an hour, even called Dr. Harms and yelled at her some because I had no insurance on my PRIVATE THOUGHTS.

She just said, "Maybe it's good, though, maybe it's time for your emotions to get out into the open."

SHE MUST BE STEALING HER PATIENT'S DRUGS, BECAUSE DOUBLE YOU TEE EFF.

"Good"? "Time for my emotions to get out into the open"? Are you kidding me? No one can read this. Nobody! I would be made fun of for the rest of my life or be put into the loony bin. Oh, not to mention, Jerk Rat would find out and probably bite me and give me rabies, which would not be fun in the slightest.

_Urrrrrghh._

So I screamed at Dr. Harms, who was all, "Come over for an appointment so we can talk about this more," and I said, "SCREW YOU, DR. HARMS, I AM GOING TO GO KILL MYSELF!!"

She wasn't very happy about this and said, "That is nothing to joke about, Oliver!"

I was like, "Too late! I'm going for the window! Tell my mom I love her, despite the fact she decided to create for me a demon brother!"

Dr. Harms said, "Sit down, Oliver. Just because that journal declares your feelings for Miley, doesn't mean you should kill yourself."

I said, "Actually, it does. Goodbye now."

"Don't make me come over there, Oliver. I know where you live."

"Yeah, that's not creepy."

"Oliver…"

"Fine, I won't kill myself."

She breathed a sigh of relief.

However, I wasn't done. "I'll get Lilly to do it for me."

"OLIVER OKEN!"

"FINE! I'll go find the freaking diary, I mean, journal! If I don't find it, though—"

"You'll be fine," she interrupted. "Just try everywhere you've been today."

"Whatever. Bye."

"Bye, Oliver."

Honestly. How did I get stuck with the one psychiatrist actually _on_ drugs??

But yeah, so I searched around frantically all night, and I eventually went to sleep because I was so tired… thought, I must admit, I was terrified of whose hands you could've been in.

In the morning, though… you were behind my pillow again. Like, the effing tooth fairy had placed you back there in my sleep. That is creepy-ass crap! Who the eff was playing Tooth Fairy!? And how did I not notice them enter my room and put you back under there?? I DID NOT LOSE ANY TEETH YO!

Blahhhh. Whatever. I'm just glad you are found again, Stupid. I totally called Dr. Harms to tell her so she would stop calling me every five seconds to make sure I really hadn't tried suicide in the last hour.

But yeah, last night…

I went to the beach with Lilly. My mom, like, let me go. It was so weird. Lilly came over to my house, unfortunately not with Miley, and she was all, "Let's hit the beach, boyfraaaan!"

That word could never sound more wrong.

I was like, "I'm not going to the beach with you. I can't. Mom's orders."

Lilly said, "No, she said it's okay."

"What?! How?!"

"Dunno. I think 'cause she loves me. And because you're dating me, she loves me even more. More than Miley now because Miley, you know, is apparently a 'bad girl' or something…"

This outraged me to a new level of Pissed Off.

"WHAT?! Miley is not a bad girl! She is an amazing, beautiful—"

"Save it for the movies, lover boy. We all know what you think about her."

"Apparently not. Mom doesn't."

Lilly rolled her eyes at me. "Yes she does. She wants you to hang out with me, not Miley. Probably because she knows."

"HOW?! OH MY GOD."

The idea was terrifying. Cause if my dense mother could figure it out, then… _Miley_ could, too. Shit, shit, shit plus a thousand more shits. DIARRHEA SHITS!

"_How?!_ Are you _kidding_ me, Oliver? Do you even see how you _look_ at the girl? It's so pathetically obvious. And, also, you ever think she might've figured it out by… oh, I don't _knoooow_… SHE SLEPT WITH YOU THE OTHER NIGHT?!"

I covered my ears. "Lilly! Don't say that! We did not _sleep_ together!"

"Oh, sorry, you _shared the same bed_! I didn't realize we had any two year olds in the room!"

I looked around. "We don't."

"Oh my God, never mind," Lilly reached for my hand. "We're going to the beach."

"Not holding hands we aren't," I scoffed and pulled away from her fingers.

"Yes, we are." My face paled. Holding hands with Lilly in public was not my sort of happy escape from being jail-celled in my room.

"But… just no! Ew!"

"Do you think I _want_ to hold your hand?" she asked disgustedly.

I stared at her and considered this.

"OH MY GOD, OLIVER! How could you even… oh, _I'm going to be sick_… I…" she reached for my pillow and thrashed it repeatedly onto my head as I screamed. "YOU ARE SUCH A DISGUSTING IDIOT!!"

"LILLY, STOP, STOP! I know, I know, you hate me! And holding my hand! I was just, OW, Lilly! I said st-OW!! QUIT IT!"

She _finally _stopped. "Good. You know I'm not going to hold your hand because I _want_ to, not ever. Remember preschool? That sixty-four pack? With the sharpener? Only reason, buddy. ONLY."

"Oh, c'mon, Lilly, you and I both know that I was the cutest boy in the whole class—OW!! LILLY!"

More pillow slappage.

"Can you just please… not be gross for two seconds?" she held up two fingers, looking very irritated with me. "We're going to hold hands because Jackson is going to be there tonight… on a date with… another, probably ugly, girl."

I blinked. "I thought he liked you."

"Me freaking too!" Lilly looked pissed. "So we're going to make him jealous!"

I shrunk backwards onto my bed. "Uh, no matter what you say, I am _not_ going to… er…well…" I puckered my lips.

Immediately, I was smacked in the head with the pillow _again_.

"ALL I ASKED FOR WAS _TWO SECONDS_ OF YOU NOT BEING GROSS!" she screamed at the top of her lungs. My mom was probably not too crazy about the noise Lilly was causing, but whatever. "I don't care what boy it is we're making jealous, there is not one reason why I will ever, ever, _ever _touch those… things of yours! My lips only touch ones that belong to cuties!"

"So… is Jackson a cutie?"

She made an angry, really weird noise and grabbed the back of my shirt collar and started pulling me towards the door. "You are _such_ a donut."

When we got to the beach, I noticed instantly that Lilly was right. Jackson was there with another girl. Who had long blonde hair. And yeah, she was pretty…_wow_ in my opinion, but let's not mention that to Lilly, who really wanted to rip the girl's eyeballs out almost immediately when we got there.

Unexpectedly, however… Miley was there, too.

I sort of melted when she smiled over at me. Oh, Tropicana. You are indeed a sexylicious flavor of orange juice.

I also noticed Jerk Rat to be nowhere in sight, so that was good. I started walking to her with a giant smile, when something pulled me backwards.

Oh yeah… the, _puke_, girlfriend.

"Oliver… what are you doing!" Lilly hissed quietly at me.

"But, but, it's Miley. Look!" I pointed slightly. "She looks _so_ pretty tonight. I must go tell her—"

"WHAT! No! You're _my_ boyfriend, even if we both hate this, and you can't hit on other girls!"

I glared. "Fine. Now what are we supposed to do?"

"Tell me I'm beautiful."

"I don't like to lie."

God, the girl hits hard.

"Just say it! Maybe Miley will get jealous, too, or something!"

A light bulb went off in my head. What if Miley DID get jealous? Maybe this plan wouldn't be so terrible after all… I'd be helping Lilly while she helped me…

I nodded and firmly gritted my teeth, preparing myself for what I was about to say.

I coughed loudly. Both Jackson and Miley looked over at Lilly and I oddly.

"Lilly," I began loudly and robotically. "You look very. V-very…" I couldn't get the word out, and Lilly narrowed her eyes at me. "…beautiful…" I mumbled, and she kicked me in the shin. "BEAUTIFUL! tonight."

I wanted to wash my mouth out with soap.

"Aw, THANKS **OLLIE-POP**!" Lilly exclaimed dramatically and squeezed her whole body around me. I gasped as her nails dug into my back. Miley and Jackson and the one girl looked way confused, none appeared jealous. Great. I wasted a compliment.

I suddenly felt Lilly's face towards my ear. "You gotta sound like you actually _like_ me if you wanna make this work, you donut."

I tried to smile. "O-okay."

"So, **OLLIE-POP**," I hated the name already, "I see our dear friend Jackson! Let's go talk to him! Gimme your hand, sillyhead-face!"

It was pretty scary to have Lilly giggle insanely at every single one of my movements, let me tell you. And to just look genuinely happy to be around me. Not the usual Lilly. It made me way uncomfortable. And 'sillyhead-face'? What is _that?_She dragged me by the hand over to Jackson and the hot girl. Er, attractive girl. Miley's the only hot girl I know.

"HI JACKSON!" Lilly pretty much yelled at the two of them, and they both jumped a mile. "Me and my AMAZING AND AWESOME BOYFRIEND OLIVER OKEN are on a date!"

It was the most unconvincing thing ever. I think Lilly thought that raising her voice by a million times louder than normal would sound like she was telling the truth or something. Really, it only gave me a headache.

Jackson now seemed to be biting his lip. What a poor soul to have a girl like Lilly after him.

"That's cool," he said nervously.

I blinked a few times while waiting for Lilly to respond, but when she didn't, I turned to my side to see why… she was staring down the poor girl sitting next to Jackson.

"And who are _you?_" Lilly spat. Like, almost for real. I swear she was about to hack a loogie, or however you spell it.

"I'm Cindy," the girl said with a smile, completely oblivious to the hatred Lilly was shoving down her throat. "And you are?"

"Lillian Truscott!" Lilly announced boldly. "I'm _his_," she pointed to Jackson, who looked alarmed, "little sister's best friend."

Cindy nodded her head, though still smiling. "Ooooh, so you're still in high school?"

For once in my life, I squeezed Lilly's hand to calm her. That was not a kind comment for a girl about to explode with jealousy besides me. I was beginning to think this was a bad, no, REALLY bad idea.

"Yes, I'm in still in high school, thanks," Lilly said calmly, but not nicely at all. "Did you drop out for beauty school or something?"

I gripped her hand tighter as what I thought to be Cindy's never-ending smile completely vanished.

CATFIGHT ALERT, CATFIGHT ALERT!! Literally. You know, Tiger Lilly? Hahahaha. I'm done.

"No, I'm becoming a doctor actually," Cindy said coldly.

"A doctor, huh?" Lilly scratched her chin. "Well, hopefully you'll find a way to remove that MOLE growing on the side of your face."

Cindy stood up. "EXCUSE ME?!"

Lilly let go of my hand. I backed away slowly. Jackson immediately positioned himself in between the girls, hands stuck out to block them from hurting each other.

"What's going on?" said a voice from beside me, and I nearly melted again. Yeaaah, _guess who_.

"Lilly… doesn't like that girl, I guess," I covered swiftly.

"Aren't you going to back her up?" Miley questioned, looking at me curiously.

Oh, shit. I had forgotten I was dating Lilly.

"Er… Lilly's independent and can fight her own battles. Th-that's what I l…l…loov…_like_ about her."

There was no way on God's green earth I was about to put the L Card and Lilly in the same sentence.

"Since when does she fight her own battles?" Miley went on. I was thinking, what was this? Twenty questions? I had to find a way to stop her prying-ness!

"Since—oh look! Jake!" I pointed and she turned around. Crap. My plan had been that I was supposed to run, but then I found myself glued to where I was standing for some reason anyways. Dang flabbit! …_where's my rabbit_… Great, now that's stuck in my head.

MOVING ON…

Miley was very, very confused. "Oliver, I don't see Jake anywhere…"

"Oh, woops. That was just Rico."

You'd think that would've worked, but—

"Rico's not here either."

"Then, um, I'm hallucinating."

Miley stared at me for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. I didn't know what else to do but laugh with her. I have mad lying skills?

When we finally stopped our laughing fit, I realized Lilly and the Cindy girl were yelling at each other still. I watched the two blondes scream when I heard Miley sigh beside me. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was staring hard at the ground.

"Something wrong?" I asked the most amazing girl ever.

"No," she answered much too quickly.

"Yes there is. What are you thinking about?"

She gave me this look then I can't really describe. It was sort of, like… I don't know… mysterious, yet obvious at the same time to me. Her eyes kind of got unfocused and foggy… they were, like, the most gorgeous greebluay color possibly _ever._

"Yoooorange juice."

Yeah, that's _exactly_ what she said. Miley Stewart was still thinking about _orange juice_.

I raised an eyebrow. "What is with you and this obsession with orange juice?"

"Um, just thirsty. I could use a drink, and I just thought… orange juice."

I thought about orange juice then, and my stomach growled loudly. Miley giggled. It made me happy that I made her giggle. Dopey happy. Yay happy. God, I am a homo sometimes.

"I think I could go for some, too," I said.

"Sunny Dee or Tropicana?" she asked in a rush.

I stared at her. "What?"

"Er, which one do you prefer again? Cause maybe we could go buy some… and have some or… something?" then she started laughing very un-Miley-ish. Strange woman.

I nervously joined in her laughter again. "Heh-heh, I like Tropicana a whole lot. She's… it's amazing."

I almost slipped there, Stupid. It was a dangerous level of slipping. Like on the ice slipping. Where I could drown in the cold, dark water. And I am stretching this analogy way too far than it needs to be stretched. Okay. I'm done.

Miley smiled at me, so I naturally melted for the third time. Then she said something that was totally a fish out of water kind of thing –

"That's good. But I like Sunny Dee a lot, too."

_Double You Tee Eff?!_

She WASN'T metaphorically speaking at all. Cause that would mean she would have a… crush… on LILLY?! LILLYSUNNY DEE, right?! MILEY IS NOT A LESBIAN!! RIGHT?!

If I would've had a cup of coffee, I would've spat it back out at Miley.

"What? You like Sunny Dee?!"

"So do you!"

God, what the hell was going on?!

"Cause it's OKAY for me to like Sunny Dee!" I shouted.

"What? I can't like Sunny Dee, too?!"

"Er, no!"

"Because why!"

"Because Sunny Dee is, um, mine," I stated.

Miley's face twitched, and the anger in her face subsided. "Oh… I don't… _want_ Sunny Dee. Um… ew…that's… not a good… flavor."

This was getting _way_ confusing. I folded my arms. "Okay then… But you like Sunny Dee."

"Yes, but I don't want it. No. No, no. You can have it."

"Thank-you?"

I really don't understand this whole orange juice crap going on between us. I mean, weird much? C'mon, ORANGE JUICE? What the crap is that supposed to signify? That we both love the tastes of oranges and should just go get married on an orange farm and live happily ever after? Yeah, I don't think so.

Do they have orange farms?

"OLIVER! We're leaving!" Lilly suddenly was stomping towards me and taking her arm in hers. "Let's go MAKE OUT!!"

My eyes bulged, and vomit crept up my throat at the image I was picturing. "N-now?!"

"Yes, now!! YOU HEAR THAT, JACKSON AND CINDY?!" Lilly turned her head as she screamed it. "OLLIE-POP AND I ARE GONNA GO _MAKE OUT!_ CAUSE WE ARE SO TOTALLY IN LOOOOOVE!"

Australia was probably going deaf. That's how loud and obnoxious she was being. Lilly needs acting lessons like bad.

And I was going to be sick.

Miley was like, petrified. She bit her lip. "Oh… I was gonna see if you guys wanted to come watch a movie, but… um, I guess you have… _stuff_ to do."

I had thought that kind of sentence would sound the worst out of Lilly's mouth, but God, it sounds even more wrong out of the love of my life's mouth.

Lilly appeared guilty. "Oh. Er. We could come over, I guess."

Miley shook her head. "No no no! I don't think I wanna watch you guys… Oh, don't make me finish the sentence."

"_Please_ don't," I said out loud on accident, and Lilly's eyes widened. "Er, please don't not let us come over, I mean."

"No, no, I have a Hannah thing in the morning so I need sleep anyways. I'll catch you… lovebirds…" she seemed to swallow the word down for some reason. "Later. Yeah… bye."

And she just left.

Lilly grabbed my arm. I glared. "Something else I will not do is talk about making out with you in public." I shivered.

She rolled her eyes. "You are such a baby. Let's get you home before your mother freaks."

"But what happened with Cindy and Jackson?"

TigerLilly growled. "Let's not go there… We'll talk about Molelady and Jack-ass-son tomorrow."

I smirked. "_Mole_lady?"

"Oh, how could you NOT see that giant brown thing protruding from the side of her chin?!"

"It was like a spec, Lilly."

"Was not! A spec of GINORMOUSNESS is what you mean!"

And we argued over Cindy's mole the rest of the way home.

That was when I realized you were missing, Stupid, and almost had a heart attack. And then I woke up and blah blah blah, now I'm here, waiting for tomorrow…

Because tomorrow I sneak out of the house. With Miley. And we go to Jerk Garbage's house. For New Years. And I have a feeling it's going to be interesting… Lilly's going… Jackson's going… meaning, Cindy and her mole will be there…

This is going to be the weirdest start of a new year, I'm telling you, Stupid.

Only God knows what's going to happen. Someone should give him a call and report back to me… ugh.

I really wish I knew His number.

* * *

Wow, that was long. I was supposed to finish all the way through the New Years Party, but I ended up being more long winded than I intended. Oops? Ohhh well, just please review! You guys are what keep pushing me along, and I love you for it!

P.S. I totally bashed the term "Ollie-pop" that Lolivers typically use… in case you didn't catch that. Don't hurt me, Lolivers? Not that I would have any idea why you're reading this in the first place?


	21. Liver

(_walks in slowly)_

I know I always say this… but don't hurt me. I'm updating finally, alright? ALRIGHT? And I have a SORT OF gift for you being that this chapter is UNGODLY LONG. So UNGODLY LONG (I feel the need to capitalize that) that it had to be divided into two separate chapters.

So, technically not my last update. I lied without realizing it, I guess? The last update will be Friday. My buddies over at Moliverfans helped me to decide this, so thanks to them… in fact, I'll personally dedicate this chapter to everyone over at the Moliverfans board. I love you guys a lot!

By the way, I feel the need to warn you…

There is teen drinking in this.

So. Yeah. Warning over.

My rant's over. Disclaimer… ah, who needs one. You guys should know I don't own HM.

So, Chapter Twenty-One INITIATED!

* * *

**DEAR STUPID**  
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE: Liver

* * *

**Monday, December 31, 5:46 p.m., my room… as freaking always.**

Dear Stupid,

In exactly two hours and fourteen minutes, I am sneaking out of my hizzouse. Or for you unghettoly-inclined people, that is "house"…

How the hell is this going to work.

No question mark there either. A period. Because it's, like, a statement. Because seriously. MY MOM COP. COP KILLER OF BAD GUYS. KILLER OF BAD GUYS MY DEATH. MY DEATH UNHAPPINESS. UNHAPPINESS OHH SHIIITTT!!

My mom is totally going to cause the "OHH SHIIITTT!!"

She will catch me sneaking out or something with my luck, despite the fact that she'll be gone all night working (on New Years Eve… what a _great_ family I have). And then she'll see Miley and be all, "Oh, that Miley is a bad girl."

AND BAD GIRLS MY MOM KILLING THEM.

Bad girl, bad girl, whatcha gonna dooo, whatcha gonna do when they come for yooouu.

Well, in this case, my mom is not a 'they'. So it's more like, what is Miley gonna doooo when my mom comes for herrrrr?

Okay that just sucked. It just doesn't have the same ring to it, but I'm prettttty positive that what Miley will do is surrender and bawl her eyes out. Which is totally understandable because hello, I'll be doing the same thing.

…And go back to my Amish living for the rest of eternity…

Really, no offense to Amish people, but how can they live without electricity? And, most importantly, _INDOOR PLUMBING_? I can't even imagine going to take a dump in the backyard's "outhouse"… seriously, what _is_ that? An outhouse? Is that what they were all really called back then? Because I really can't even imagine looking Ms. Kunkle in the eye during school and saying, "Excuse me, Skunkle, but I have to go to the outhouse." I'd feel like I'm excusing myself to go freaking Australia! Wait, that's the out_back_…

Did you know in Australia they supposedly also call the bathroom the "Thunderbox"? HAHAHA. I read it on the Internet. Can you imagine? If I lived there, I'd totally gross my mom out everyday by being like, "There's going to be a STOOOORM tonight, if you know what I'm saying!" Hahahahaha.

God, I am hilarious.

And a bit… disgusting.

And I can't believe I went on about outhouses for a whole paragraph. I need help.

Oh, wait, that's already been done since I already have a psychiatrist. And look! No help has been achieved since I am stuck writing in a stupid little blue notebook about freaking outhouses and thunderboxes.

Well, I need to shower and get ready for Operation: SNEAK-OUT!

Okay, that sounds so lame. Let's call it Operation: THUNDERBOX. Hahaha, jaykay. I don't really have to…well, _you know_, right now. Maybe later… which I'm sure you really wanted to know, Stupid. My colon runs on a clock or something. The weather channel proclaims high chances of a storm tonight at around 6:06… if you get what I'm saying.

Does anyone else write about bodily functions in diaries—journals? Probably not. I'm just that special I suppose.

Operation: SHOWER. For right now.

Bye, Stupid.

* * *

**Monday, December 31, 7:50 p.m., still my room.**

Dear Stupid,

I leave in ten minutes.

And I look like a badass.

Well, contrary to the term, my ass doesn't look bad, I think. I think it looks fitting in these jeans. Hmm.

Damnit. I'm homosexual.

Um, I'm just kidding, Stupid, and possibly who is ever reading this that could be someone from Seaview High School. I'm really _not_ homosexual. Pumpkins and tacos fascinate me. And bananas are only good in the form of fruit. Wait, I probably shouldn't mention the word _fruit_ while defending my honor…

Oh, shit. Time to go.

This is going to be one hell of a night.

* * *

**Monday, December 31, Who cares, 1/4876 Bathrooms in Jerk Rat's Mansion.**

Dear Stupid,

Have you ever just sat down and thought, "Oh, God, I have this unnerving question to ask of you, and it is of great importance. I question many things, but this I do wonder quite briefly…. Why do rats exist?"

I mean, seriously. They're ugly beings with ugly teeth and ugly little tails. They like cheese. They like holes in the walls. Who the hell likes holes in the walls that is not a freaking freak of nature? Oh, and they like scaring my Mom, a.k.a. a freaking cop, enough to make her jump onto the kitchen table.

Don't ask me how that works because my mom is like, a BAMF with a gun. She could shoot a rat if she wanted to. _I_ want her to. Because I happen to know a slimy rat that somehow is also a human, and can effing talk. I wish I could just kidnap his ratass and be like, "You have two seconds to turn into a respectable guy. Oh, you fail," and BAM! He gets shot in the head, and everyone goes on with life all happily rat-free and whatnot.

This person… you should know him by now, Stupid.

It's… DUN DUN DUN… the Jerk Rat. The Jerk Garbage. Or… Jake Ryan. But honestly, like I'm really going to call him that when he portrays every fiber being of a walking, talking, jerk rat of garbage.

So anyways. I'm sitting here in one of his ten million bathrooms. I'm on the fourth floor. Yeah, the kid lives practically all alone, and he has four floors in his mansion. What the hell do you do with four floors when you live by yourself? Play hide n seek all alone? Yeah, I'm sure. "49…50! Ready or not, here I come! Oh, wait, I found me! LET'S PLAY AGAIN!"

God…. How sad is it that I'd probably _do_ that if I lived here? That's like Shakespearian tragedy that I would really do that. Oh my God, I have no life.

So… er… yes. Tonight has not been so peachy so far. It's been, like… How do I explain this? Well, you know that feeling where you eat this delicious cake for your birthday from your grandma? And then, there's some left over, and as much as you wish you could make some more room in your stomach for it, you decide to put it in the freezer for later? And then, the next day, you reach in to grab it, and it's GONE because your demon child of a brother ATE IT??

Yeah, THAT's how this party has been all night. My cake has been stolen from me!!

The only _somewhat _awesome thing that has gone on is the car ride here with Miley.

That, I suppose, is something worth writing about, Stupid.

So this is how everything started.

I was in my room, of course. I was examining my rear end in the mirror because I was starting to doubt myself about the "badass" thing. My phone went off and I almost had heart failure because I was so absorbed in thoughts of, "One cheek looks bigger than the other," that I kinda forgot what was going on.

I picked up the cell phone, and yep, you guessed it, it was Miley.

And stupidly enough, for some weird, alien, Extra Testicle—er, Terrestrial… the eff? _Testicle?_ Am I gay or what?—reason, I had this little mind war of how to answer the phone.

Yeah. I don't know, Stupid. I talk to Miley everyday. What the hell.

So I ended up saying this to her, "Hey—lo—sup—evening?"

_Heylosupevening_. That is like, sci-fi shit language or something.

She was apparently confused. "Um, hi, nothing, good evening to you, too?"

She can understand my sci-fi shit language. I truly love this girl.

"Uhhh, yeah, so, um, yeah," I said like the biggest dork to ever walk the planet. Oh, wait, I can't make that comparison when the person who I'm referring to is OBVIOUSLY ME. "Are you here yet?"

To try and ease my nerves, I fiddled around with a baseball that had been lying on my floor. I tossed it up, caught it, and repeated.

And Miley just suddenly goes, "I'm like a minute away."

Which caught me so off guard, that the baseball ended up landing CRACK on my head.

"AH EFFFFFFF!" I screamed in pain, except "eff" was what… the eff word really is.

Yeah, I had just F-Bombed Mileysaki.

"Oliver? Are you okay?" Miley asked all concerned.

At that same moment, my mom came bursting through the door, looking quite pissed off. "OLIVER OKEN! Did I just hear what I think I heard?!" the Man Voice had also arrived with her.

My mind sprung into action. "I SAID TRUCK! Like, AH! A TRUCK! Out my window! TRUCK!" I pointed pathetically to the window. I highly doubt she bought it, but nonetheless, the topic seemed to be forgotten because then she was examining the cell phone on my ear. I was thinking, _shit_, because my psychic self just _knew_ what she was about to ask.

"Who are you talking to?"

I'm like effing Sylvia Brown, sometimes, I swear.

"Ummmm," I struggled with answering. She couldn't know it was Miley. So I thought of someone else immediately. "It's… Lilly! Yes, Lilly." I focused my attention back on the phone, which had Miley's voice repeatedly asking what was going on.

"Sorry, Lilly, it's just my mom. I-I-I love you, too. You're amazing. You're the best…g-….guh….girlfriend," I cringed, "Ever."

Miley was all, "What? _Lilly?_ Are you delusional, Oliver? I'm Miley. MILEY. I'm not your girlfriend."

With my mom still watching me suspiciously, I took a gulp and said, "Oh, Lilly, you say the _darnedest_ things! I'll see you later… b-….ba…_baby_…" God, I wanted to puke. "Later!"

I hung up with Miley freaking out on the other line. I'm such a loser.

My mom somehow believed it, though. I personally think I have terrible acting skills, but she was all, "Okay, Ollie, honey, baby, (_the eff?_) I'll leave you alone then. I'll be out for the night at work, and your brother is at a friend's house. If you need anything, you know my number! I'll call you at around midnight. I cleaned your boxers, too; they should be in your undies drawer! Love you!"

And just left.

_Ollie, honey, baby._

She _had_ to know something was up. Because I don't think anyone has ever called me that until that moment.

Well, until about five seconds later when I heard a giggling coming from my bed of, _"Ollie honey babyyyy, your boxers are clean!"_

And I realized I had not properly hung up the phone with Miley. She was dying of laughter on the phone. Like, probably for real. She was gasping for breath and everything.

"Miley, shut up!" I hissed into the phone. Also, at the time, I was taking part in the only sport I'm really good at—Xtreme Blushing.

"I… can't… AHAHA… I can't breathe, oh my God, you're gonna get me in a crash, Oliver—no, wait, _Ollie honey babyyy_… Need me to clean some of your dirty boxers?"

I kept on blushing, because that is what you do when Miley says the phrase "dirty boxers" to you when you are madly in love with her.

"Er, ew, wait a minute, that sounded gross," Miley said suddenly like she had been reading my thoughts. Her giggling fit was also put to a stop. I didn't say anything. I was like, too embarrassed, and I knew if any sentence would start formulating out of my mouth, it wouldn't be very… clean, I guess you could say.

"Umm… anyways. I've just parked about a block away from your house," she went on awkwardly. "So get out here already. Your neighborhood is freaky shiz at night."

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. "Miley… did you just say… _shiz_?"

There was a pause. "I… think so."

"Since when are you ghetto?"

"Since never. But if you don't get out here in the next five minutes, I'ma bust a cap in yo' you-know-where!"

And as I laughed, she hung up.

That girl is amazing. I swear.

So anyways, I snuck out the window. And you know, down the block really isn't that far away. So I was all, "Oh, there's going to be no trouble getting to Miley's car, this will be simple." But GUESS WHAT! Life threw me the Wild Card, as I should've suspected because the day something as SIMPLE AS WALKING TO SOMEONE'S CAR WITHOUT EMBARASSING MYSELF happens… well, I'll be dead basically.

Because I saw Miley's car. It's a purple, violetish convertible, you see. And she flashed the brights at me, like, seventeen times or something, I don't know, but she was laughing as she did it because for some reason, flashing me seems to be that awesome.

Hehe… _Flashing me_… I wish.

Er. No I don't. That is not respecting her.

But she—oh, never mind, I'm a naughty boy.

ANYWAYS.

So as she was doing that, and laughing like a freaking maniac behind the wheel, I rolled my eyes, and just as I was about to get into her car, THE UNTHINKABLE HAPPENS!!

That's for the needed dramatic effect. Because this HUUUGE mofo of a dog creature thing came out of nowhere, barking like a maniac, gnashing its teeth……..

_Gnashing._ How the hell do I know that word??

But er, yeah, so it comes at me, like a monster with vampire teeth, and I scream for bloody murder, and it freaking FLIES THROUGH THE AIR LIKE SOME SPACE DOG, and lands on my pants.

IT FLIPPING RIPS MY BADASS JEANS.

ON MY _CROTCH-IAL AREA!!_

That's like… Area 51!! _A Do Not Enter Zone!! _(Not like that'd be physically possible, it's not a taco, unless we're talking catheters here. Then, maybe. And why the hell am I going on about this?) But yeah, it's like Area 51! The government should be protecting it, but it seems as if everyone gets a piece!! AHHH!

Wow. That last sentence really sounded messed up. I don't think anyone has gotten a piece of my Area 51. Er, I don't just think, I _know_. It's actually a for sure thing. Unless we're talking dream—okay, moving on.

So yes, the dog beast ended up tearing off part of the Area 51 jeans.

I yanked the dog off of me and got right into the car.

Guess what Miley was doing.

Oh, you're right. DYING OF LAUGHTER. AGAIN.

The first actual sentence she said that didn't sound like a hyena was this, "Did you just get bit in the penis by a mini wiener dog!?"

"IT WAS NOT A MINI WIENER DOG!! IT WAS A BLOODTHIRSTY WOLVERINE!!" I screamed, mortified.

Miley continued laughing. "Shaped like a wiener." She stopped. "Well, a hot dog wiener. Not, well, a… oh, you should know, you have one. Right?"

RIGHT. Like she was questioning my man authority… or something!

"No, Miley. I don't have one. What the hell, of course I have one. You saw it."

"I did?" she blinked as we pulled away. "_Oh_," her face pinked slightly as she seemed to understand just what I was talking about. "I _did_. Ginger!"

I rolled my eyes. "I am a changed man, I hope you know."

"Really now?" her eyes left the road for a brief second. "And how's that?"

"Well, I see girls more for what they really are now."

"Sooo, basically you're saying that you look at their face now instead of their breasts."

I hacked. "_Wh-What?!_"

"Wellll, just a life lesson for you, Oliver dear, a girl's personality is better found in her eyes than in these babies."

And she pointed.

To… _them_.

Who's cleavage was showing quite more than usual in her little black spaghetti-strap, sparkly shirt. Hottttttt, let me tell ya.

I did possibly the most immature/stupidest thing ever (besides actually _looking_ at what she was talking about, which I did, too) and was just like, "Boobs?"

She laughed again. "Well, yeah. What else would you call them?"

_Pumpkins.  
_  
But I didn't say that out loud. Somehow. Thank God.

"Right. Yeah. But, er, anyways, I like a girl's personality more than her looks. I mean, Becca Weller. The girl's cute, but no."

It suddenly got really quiet. And I was suddenly nervous as well because Miley was not laughing anymore, which probably meant I was going to get yelled at… or… well, talk about serious stuff, which I'm not very good at doing with Miley.

"Oliver," she said, a very "let's talk serious" tone to her voice that made me want to pee my pants. I just KNEW she was going to be all serious, Stupid!

"Why do you like Lilly?"

AHHHHHHHHHH.

_WHAT _DO YOU SAY TO THAT, STUPID?!

"I don't."

NOT _THAT_ OBVIOUSLY! BUT I DID. OMG.

Miley was as stunned as I felt. The car kinda swerved, and we nearly hit a trashcan, which I briefly wonder if Jerk Rat had been hiding/living in. We probably _should_ have hit it…

"Wh-what?"

"Er, no, I like Lilly. Because… Well. You see… She is… She is my girlfriend."

Literally the only thing I could come up with, Stupid. I should probably be shot for being the worst boyfriend… ever. I mean, really, I can't even say anything nice about her when she's not around. Oh, not to mention, I'm in love with another woman. Really. I am horrible. But at least Lilly knows I love Miley… so that makes it… better. I think.

"Oliver… you don't like her as more than a friend, do you?"

SHIT SHIT SHIT.

"No."

The, "OHHH SHITTTTT!!" came earlier than expected, I guess. Believe me, Stupid, I did NOT want to say that to Miley.

It got really quiet again. "So… are you going to break up with her?" Miley prodded.

"I… don't know."

I watched Miley bite her lip. "Well, don't tell her I told you this, but she told me she doesn't like you either."

I ALMOST started laughing, Stupid. Because… really, I wanted to so bad. But then Miley would totally know something was up, so I'm gonna unleash that laughter right here–HAHAHAHAHAHAHA—okay, done.

"WHAT?!"

Miley somehow mistook my amusement for disappointment. "Yeah. She just doesn't wanna hurt your feelings. She says she thinks you like someone else, though. Someone named… Lexi… Lexico? Something weird like that… Is that her last name or something?"

It dawned on me then.

LILLY had stolen you, Stupid. LILLY. The one person who _already_ knows all my embarrassing things. And I was freaking out for NOTHING. Except, I don't know how she got a hold of you… Ah well, I guess she'll just use all the extra things she read to torture me with… _shit_, what HAVE I wrote about lately anyways?

Er, back to me and Miley. (Ah, me and Miley. What a great combination of words… and people. Heart doodles all around! Kay, now I'm officially gay. Not.)

I said, "Eh. More like a codename."

"Oh…" Miley's expression hardened. "Who is she really then?"

I SWEAR, Stupid, she sounded… JEALOUS. Like, honestly. And I suck at picking up on things like that. But the way she said it… it was like… SPAT at me. Like a fat loogie of JEALOUSY into my eye. It buuuurned.

I didn't know what to say like always, so I said, "I'll tell you after the party."

_After the party._ I said that. Oh my God. No way would I be doing that, like_, ever_, so I guess I lied.

So, yeah, basically we finally go to the party. Miley and I just listened to the radio the rest of the time. It felt strangely awkward for some reason. But oh well.

We roll up to this huge mansion, bigger than my Aunt Matilda's ass, which is saying something if you knew her, Stupid. I felt paralyzed with shock. But whatever, I should've known because Jerk Rat _would_ live in a place like this. Not the rat-hole or garbage can like that one guy off of Sesame Street, like I imagined. Except Grover (that's his name, right? Holy hell, how do I know that?) could kick his ratass anyday…

Anyways, what really pissed me off was that right when we got there, Miley literally like, disappeared and poofed into the air.

Like, POOF! Magic. Abra Kadabra Alakazam, Gotta Catch Em All! Pokemon is the sex.

I never thought I'd ever write "is the sex"… anywhere. Because that phrase confuddles me. What is "the sex" besides… the sex? Never mind. This isn't even important. Right now anyways.

But yeah, Miley jumped out of the car and ran inside. Mind you, there were about fifty people outside the mansion smoking. Which is just plain awesome. Not. I didn't even care that I had a hole in my crotch either. I just went up to this one guy and was like, "Hey, did a girl about this tall," I gestured with my hands, "And long curly brown hair just run inside?"

He was like, "Duuuuude… your hair is talking."

So I just went inside because, um, no.

I was pissed off immediately again. Because I wasn't told there was going to be _ALCOHOL_ AT THIS PARTY. And there were loads of it _everywhere_, Stupid. So many colors and variations. Not to mention that there were teens hanging off each other's STD infected tongues and…body parts that shouldn't be out in the open… and, oh my gosh, I wanted to be sick.

How the hell was I dragged into this… oh yeah, _Miley_. Duh. That girl makes me do crazy shit like this all the time.

I was very, very, very relieved to see Jackson in the corner of the first room I walked into. Surprisingly, he wasn't with Cindy or her mole. Well, hopefully not _just_ her mole, that might be a little weird…. So I walked up to him, and was like, "Hey," all casually because I was happy to see a face I was familiar with.

He narrowed his eyes; not a usual Jackson face when he looked at me. "Oliver?" He also sounded pretty confused.

I was like, "Um, yeah, it's me."

"Why are you talking to me?"

I blinked at the odd question. "Uh, why wouldn't I be?"

He was glaring like hardcore. Kinda scary. "Where's Liiiilly?" It was the most evil singsong voice I'd ever heard in my life.

I winced. "I, I don't know. I was hoping you'd tell me."

Jackson seemed to lose the anger and get confused again. "That's funny. She just told me she ran off to play an intense game of tonsil hockey with you upstairs. On a bed supposedly. With Egyptian cotton."

I hacked for the second time that night. "_What?_ No! I just got here!"

"And it's about time, butterlips," said a strangely husky voice from behind me, and suddenly I felt a girl's arms wrap around my waist.

I twisted in alarm and uncomfortable-ness. "Lilly?!… Wait, _butterlips?!_"

And let me tell you, Stupid… Lilly looked _trashed_. Like, her blonde hair was beyond messed up, and her eyeliner was way smeared around her eyes to look like a raccoon. I was so pissed off yet again that one of my best friends would actually drink… and even worse, she wasn't just drinking, she was DRUNK! _Obviously_. Like the girl would really put her arms around me like that!

My drunken gal pal smacked her lips together. "Yes, butterlipsssssssssssssssssss. Cause your lips are like butterrrr, mmmm," and she started LEANING UP TOWARDS ME to actually KISS ME (OMFG, SIIIICK!), and I jumped away.

"Lilly, you're drunk."

I frowned as she came at me again, smirking.

"Nuh-uh. _You're_ drunk," she argued, giggling. She took another step forward, and I blocked her with an arm. She moaned in annoyance.

"Lilly, have you seen Miley?" I asked her.

She stuck out a lip. "It's always Miley, Miley, _Miley_. Why not meeee?"

"Because…" I looked behind me, and noticed that Jackson was still standing there, looking pissed off beyond reason. "Because you love Jackson!"

I grabbed her arm and thrust her into Jackson, who yelped in surprise.

She stared at him for a moment. "_I _don't have any moles, you know," she said simply with waggling eyebrows.

He blinked with his face reddening. "But you _do_ have a boyfriend."

Lilly looked at me, then back at him with a giant smile. "No I don't, silly. That's _Oliver_."

Jackson scrunched his face in confusion, and I sighed. "Look, Jackson, Lilly and I never dated. It was all a set up."

Lilly gasped. "_No way!_"

"Lilly!" I shouted at her.

"Oh, wait, yeah, I knew that. I'm Lilly, aren't I?"

I rolled my eyes. Drunk Lilly was verrrry annoying. "_Anyways_, Jackson, Lilly loves you, and you guys can have a trillion babies without worrying about cheating. As long as you left Cindy."

Lilly grinned like a maniac. Jackson gazed at her.

"Yeah… Cindy was a set up as well."

And just like that, Lilly jumped onto him and kissed him.

God knows how he kissed back because Lilly probably didn't have any idea as to what was going on, and her breath was rank as hell. And really, like I didn't wanna puke before from the disgustingness around me, I now had my "ex girlfriend" and the love of my life's brother making out against the living room wall. Talk about AWKWARD.

So, I just walked away to go to another room.

This is where everything got a little bit more interesting.

Jerk Rat was in there. _Surrounded_ by people. Nothing new, yeah… but they were all like, "CHUG CHUG CHUG!" which I thought only happened in movies, but whatever. He was apparently chugging like a choo choo. That doesn't even make sense. Never mind. But I think you know what I meant.

He finished the beer he was on, and everyone cheered. I don't know why. Congrats, you are now a dumbass rat? Oh wait, that's already true.

He saw me then and smiled all happily. Since when is he ever happy to see me?

"OKEN! Okeeeennnn!" he called and stumbled over to me. I backed away a little before he could touch me. "YOU MADE IT! DID YOU BRING ME MY SEXY LITTLE MIIILEY?"

I was disgusted that he called her that to my face. Even more disgusted that he was talking about an inch _awa_y from my face. What the hell. _Aaaand_ I can hear you, Jake, you DON'T NEED TO TALK IN CAPITAL LETTERS.

"She's around here somewhere," I said calmly, though I wanted to jack him in the face.

"Hm, well, I kinda hope she is. Wanna beeeeeer?"

He held up a bottle to me, and I cringed. Yeah. I did not want under any circumstances to ever look like he did at that moment, so NO. That's right, I rock because I say no to ALCOHOL. OADD! OLIVER AGAINST DRUNK DRIVING!

"No thanks," I said and waved it away like a badass.

"Thasss okay, Miley'll have one, fersssssure," Jerk Garbage told me with a confident nod and a gulp of the beer he had just offered me. Aaaaand he was spilling it on himself. Loser. But what he said… pissed me off YET AGAIN.

"Miley will not," I replied.

He eyed me curiously and pointed a finger at me. No, wait, he pointed at a lamp beside me, who I guess he thought was me.

"Oh, ssssshe better," he slurred. "How else will sssshe put out?"

And that's when I really did jack him in the face.

Seriously. I lost all my self-control. And just slammed him in the nose with my fist, and he fell backward, cussing like a sailor.

I ran away.

I am chicken shit. Are chicken shits better than worms?? _Please be better than worms??  
_  
But er, now I am sitting here where I am now. Hoping Jerk Rat does not come and find me and kill me and sell my intestines on ebay for ten grand a yard. Though, I don't know exactly who goes on ebay for human intestines, but hey, even cannibals have the Internet.

I just can't believe the Jerk Rat. I KNEW HE WAS EVIL TO BEGIN WITH!! Stealing water bottles… now V-Cards? Seriously! He is a WORM-RAT. In caps!

No one is taking Miley's V-Card on my watch…

…hmm… hehehe….

Er, no. _No one,_ Oliver.

SHIT. SOMEONE'S COMI—

* * *

**Monday, December 31, around 11:00 p.m., hallway.**

Dear Stupid,

The New Year starts in about one hour.

And I don't know what to do.

I guess I'll start from the beginning.

So, you'll never believe who came hurdling through the bathroom door that I thought I locked? Oh, no one special.

Not. More like, Special-est.

Miley Stewart came crashing in through the door, holding something… bad in her hand. _A bottle of Vodka._

When she came inside, I barely recognized her at all (though I still hid my journal immediately under my jacket), which is I guess why I wasn't as upset as I should've been. Her brown hair was all in her face, tangly and whatnot, and she was stumbling around like she forgot how to walk, and she didn't seem to notice my existence. I guess because I was in the bathtub, but whatever.

It was at that moment in time, Stupid, that I realized Miley was not Smiley (tehehehehehehehehehe, I should be Dr. Seuss or something). She was all… Frowning. And stuff. I opened my mouth to speak, when the UNTHINKABLE STRIKED AGAIN!

She leaned over the toilet and just hurled her guts out.

No lie. It was like…

The most disgusting thing I'd seen since Jerk Garbage's face looking at Jerk Garbage's face in a pocket mirror.

I won't gore out details with how the… Miley Insides looked. But it was nasty. And yellow.

Somehow, however… the sight of her puking made me realize who she was. Like, honestly. I am seriously lovesick to a pathetic level if I can recognize the puking noises of the girl I love.

"BLEERKKCHAHFFK!" Miley was… doing in the toilet. That's my best little sound imitation in words. Stunningly similar when you sound it out loud. Except… ew. I don't want to remember that sound.

"Miley?" I asked stupidly. Stupidly because, well, the way I said it made the second syllable go up like two octaves for some reason. I'm like, I've already been through puberty, and I'm never going back. Those were scary, scary times, Stupid.

She stopped her…you know, and snapped her head around and took me in. "Liver?"

Liver. Well, she sort of remembered me. I guess I am a liver. Great.

"Ol-iv-er," I said slowly.

"Ol. Iv. Er." She repeated with a blink. "Liver!"

I smacked my head. "Mileyyy… No. It's Ol-iv-er."

"Liver."

"Oliver."

"Liver."

"Oliver."

"LIVER OLIVER LIVER OLIVER!" she sang happily and loudly, scaring the shiz out of me, but not really. And now that I think about it, that was quite the tongue twister she had belted out.

"Miley! Give me that bottle!" I was outraged. So blatantly outraged. The girl of my dreams was drunk. Drunk! All because of a stupid stinky, smelly rathead! I reached for her Vodka, but she snatched it away from my grasp.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPE."

Really. She said it with 27 O's.

I got it from her anyways, and she frowned, and looked like she was going to cry. I would never want to be the reason the girl is crying, mind you, but I was not going to let her have any more of the stuff when she looked like she was about eight seconds from just passing out.

"Liver, please? I wanna dance."

"You can dance without it," I told her calmly, despite the fact that her pretty little eyes were batting their pretty little eyelashes at me all prettily littly stupidly.

And suddenly, she was approaching me very slowly… _seductively_, Stupid. Well, her face was, and she butted her nose into mine. I stumbled backward, blushing profusely, and fell into the tub with a yelp. It _would_ figure that when Miley tries to be all sexy with me, she's freaking drunk.

"Liver," she giggled. "You're funny."

I stared at her from my spot on the tub. "No I'm not. You've told me I'm not many times."

She cocked her head to the side, smiling. "Yes you are. I lie to you." And then she started laughing like insanely. "If I were Pinocchio, my nose would be huge! Wanna see if it is?!" and she bent her face down into the tub, right in front of mine AGAIN.

I couldn't move. I really couldn't. She was… an inch away from my lips with her own.

"Miley, move," I murmured.

"Why? You don't love me?"

HAHAHAHA. God. If she only knew.

"No, it's not that. Just… you smell."

And she blinked and suddenly stood up straight, looking pissed off. Yeaah, gooooo me. I'm just such a charmer, I might as well go get myself a King Cobra snake! Oh, wait, that's dumb because it would obviously KILL ME.

"I hate you, Liver. You don't love me."

Well, she kinda sounded like she was talking to her own liver or something, but I still felt kinda sad since I kept thinking of that "a drunk mind speaks a sober heart" shindig. Which meant, Miley really hated me.

She turned to leave, but then stumbled, and I leapt up from my position in the bathtub to catch her in my arms.

She just stared at me again. "Liver…"

I realized how close our faces were again. Crap. And as romantic as the statement of "Liver" sounded, I really couldn't deny that I wanted to kiss her. I really did. Just the way she was _looking_ at me…

Except, due to Vodka, my lips did not reach hers, as Miley leaned up and kissed… my _chin_. I think she thought it was my lips or something because she closed her eyes and left her lips there for, like, ever, as my whole head and stomach is spinning because WHAT THE EFF WAS GOING ON!? MILEY WAS KISSING ME?! OR AT LEAST IMAGINING IT?!

I don't know _how_ I did it, but I pushed her off me a little bit.

She looked surprised. "Liver?"

"No, I'm OLIVER. Not Liver. Your best friend, OLIVER. Not your boyfriend. You kiss your boyfriend, not your BEST FRIEND," I said, and the words destroyed me as I realized how true they were, despite the fact at how much I hated Jerk Rat.

"You are my boyfriend." She frowned, that look of crying going across her face again.

"No, no, Miley. I am your boy SPACE friend. Jerk Rat—Jake Ryan's your boyfriend."

And suddenly she was bawling and flailing herself into my arms.

What the hell. Did alcohol make you bipolar? First she was ill, then she was giggly, then she was horny (er, maybe not, but I don't know, those greebluay eyes had never looked more sexylicious in my life), now she was hysterical?

"I don't like him, Liver! I don't. I really don't. Don't make me kiss him at midnight. Please. Please!" she was pleading into my chest.

Wow. She made it sound like it was hard to say no or something?

"You don't have to kiss anyone, Miley."

"Why can't I kiss yooooooou?"

I was absolutely stunned by her words. I pushed her back from me just to look at her face, and saw how sad she clearly appeared.

"Because, Miley… you're drunk."

Really, truly, the only reason why I wouldn't want her to.

"I am not! I am ssssssssober!" and as she spoke the 's', she sprayed spit all over my face. I winced. It was the first time I'd tasted her spit, and it wasn't exactly in the way I had hoped.

"No, you're not."

"Yes I am, Liver!" she said to me, now looking very stressed. "Look! I can do the alphabet backwards!" she suddenly held up a hand, five fingers stretched. "A-B-C-D-1-2-3-76-Oh crap, I ran out of fingers!!"

And she really, somehow, looked shocked. It didn't make sense. She had run out of fingers when she had gotten to "one".

I shook my head. "Miley, I think I really need to get you home. This was a bad idea."

"NO! I don't wanna go home!" she shouted at me. "It's not twelve yet."

I sighed. "We'll stay until then, but then I'm driving you, Lilly, _and_ Jackson home."

She stared at me for a long moment. "Who's Jack, and who's his son?"

Freaky that she said the same exact thing I had when I found out about the Jackson thing. But then again, she's… wasted. And I was just… retarded.

"He's Jackson. Your brother, Jackson," I explained to her. I was beginning to feel like Miley was my daughter or something with the way I had to explain everything so slowly, but the fact that I'm kinda in love with her makes that sound a little creepy and pedaphile-ish.

"…Who will be dating your best friend by the end of the night, I'm guessing," I added.

Her nose wrinkled at me. "YOU'RE _GAY?!_"

I choked. "Excuse me?! No I'm not!"

"Then I don't understand."

"Miley, you have another best friend."

She sat there for a little while, absorbing the information, I guess. When it hit her what I was talking about, it hit me, too.

Literally. Because she had suddenly pinned me to the floor. Again. It hurt. Despite the sexiness of the pounce.

"LILLY AND JACKSON?! WHAT?! _WHAT?!_ WHY DIDN'T YOU _STOP_ HER!? SHE'S YOUR _GIRLFRIEND_! THAT'S HORRIBLE! JACKSON IS GROSS! AND DIRTY! DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE EATS FOR BREAKFAST SOMETIMES?! BACON WITH COTTAGE CHEESE! COTTAGE CHEESE!!"

Her eyes were flaming.

I squeaked.

And then she calmed down and let go of my shirt collar. Aw, sexiness deflated. But only slightly… since she was still on top of me, you know. Tehehehe.

The first thing I got out was, "You sober up quickly." And it was in this teeny tiny voice, too. Kinda like a double-you-tee-eff-where-did-that-come from-voice.

And then she did the only thing I could not have expected. She…. She….

She leaned over and puked into the bathtub.

And I was forced to hold up her hair as she did so, and I cringed after every heave, but just kept telling myself that it was Miley, and she was worth anything, puke and all.

When that was all done, Miley was definitely back to being… un-sober. She seemed to forget about the Lilly/Jackson thing almost instantly, except that she somehow seemed to remember I wasn't dating Lilly anymore, of all things…

I had to hoist her onto my back. She wanted to go downstairs, but she said she "couldn't remember what stairs looked like", so I was forced to put her on my back and walk down the stairs. I had to admit, it felt very nice to have her arms securely around my neck. And every time she giggled as we took a step, I felt all tingly inside.

Yeah, that seriously makes me sound like I am a total fairy.

But I'm not. Anyways…

Miley asked me a very weird question as I carried her.

"Liver," she was back to that again. "Are you unhappy?"

I stopped walking and looked up at her. "Why do you ask that?"

"Because you don't have an, um, an, um… oh yeah, a giiiirlyfrand person thingy anymore."

"Lilly was never truly my girlfriend, Miles," I said with a sigh. "She was dating me to make Jackson jealous. I never liked her like that."

Instead of being angry, Miley flipping laughed. Due to the fact that she was drunk, I had no idea if she understood any of what I was saying, Stupid.

"So, so, you're ssssaying… No more Ssssunny Dee?"

I was so surprised at this that I finally set her down in the middle of the hallway we were in. She crumbled to the ground into a ball and giggled like a maniac.

"No more Sunny Dee?" I repeated, my heart racing. Did she really mean it in the way I was thinking?!

"Yeahhhh. Cause Lilly Willy Billy Milly Silly—"

I smirked. "Okay, I get it, you can rhyme."

"I WASN'T DONE!" she yelled at me, and I jumped. "Ahem… TILLY!!… is Sunny Dee."

"She is?" I whispered.

"Yessss. You see, I like Sunny Dee, too, Liver, like a friend. I didn't want to hurt her feelingssss if, well…" she suddenly looked at me with an embarrassed expression. "Oh, oops! I'm being UN-secretive! Lilly Will Billy Milly Silly—"

"Miley!"

"TILLY!" she said it smugly. "Wants me to be secretive. And I'm not being that. I'm so weird." A giggle. "And tired, Liver. I wanna sleep. Sleep with me?"

I blushed. SLEEP WITH HER?

"No, Miley. We can't miss the start of the New Year!"

She rolled over so her stomach was flat on the carpet, groaning. "I don't like New Years… I gotta kiss Jake."

I grinned, and then shook it off. No smile about that, Oliver. That's her boyfriend. Who she loves… but then again, why did she say that so… gloomily?

"Don't you wanna kiss him?" I asked, confused.

"NO! He'd rather kiss himself…"

I laughed hysterically loud at that one, and Miley lifted her head to look at me with a smile. God, she's beautiful… even when she doesn't know what the hell she's doing.

"You agree, Liver?"

"Yes, Miles. I agree."

She suddenly patted the floor next to her. "Come sit next to me, Liver. We don't have to go downstaiiiirs. I like this floor. This floor… it's comfy. It's so comfy."

I rolled my eyes, but sat down next to her anyways, trying not to feel too arrogant about the fact that I was the reason for the smile on her face for once…. Or maybe the floor… She did say it was comfy.

When I sat down, I bolted when she set her head down on my shoulder.

"What's wrong?" she asked innocently, like BEING THAT CLOSE TO MY NECK WITH HER FACE WAS COMPLETELY NORMAL FOR ME.

She's so clueless.

"Er, nothing. You just… startled me," I partly lied. Partly because well, she DID startle me. Drunk Miley was such a flirt. I halfway wondered if this was her sober heart… but shook it off. Being drunk made people take their clothes off and dance on tables, which I don't think means you actually WANT to do that when you're sober…?

"Oh. Well. Now I won't then." And she set her down AGAIN on my shoulder. I shivered as she snuggled into it. _Remain calm, Liver… Wait, no, Oliver… Damnit…_

And that's when for a third time that night, the Unthinkable Striked.

Jerk Rat appeared at the end of the hallway.

And let me tell you, he was not a happy camper.

"OKEN! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING WITH MY GIRL?!"

I sputtered, while Miley was just like, "Hello Jake-itha," which is a mystery all in itself. Jake-itha? Is he half woman?

"Mileyyyy," he slurred. "What'd he do to you?!"

Miley smiled. "Nuuuuuffin."

"HE FORCED YOU INTO SEX!" he exclaimed.

"WHAT THE HELL?" I also exclaimed. How the HELL did he get that from a word that rhymed with muffin? "I didn't do anything with her! At all! She was just puking in the bathroom, and I had to hold her hair up!"

"Whatever," Jerk Rat said and held out a hand to Miley. "Now c'mon, Milessss, let's go. I want you to be my firssst kiss of the year."

I was thinking… did he completely FORGET about me jacking him in the face… or what? I didn't really care that he forgot, believe me, that's drama I don't wanna deal with, but I couldn't BELIEVE I was… homefree?!

Unfortunately, I realized I hadn't really done much damage to Jerk Rat's perfect, coughHAHAHAHAHAYEAHRIGHTcough, face. His nose was only slightly swollen. Just my luck, right? I actually man up, and this is what happens. He remains unscathed. What the hell—_unscathed?_ I am like a vocab-nerd tonight or something…

Anywho.

Miley sat there for a second, frowning, which is totally wrong for a girl that's born to smile. "But… I'm tired."

"I don't care, I wanna kiss you. Let's goooo!"

I sat there, frozen next to Miley, wondering what she was going to do. I really wanted her to stick up for herself and stay with me… but… she suddenly stood up, of course, wobbling, but Jerk Rat put his gross wormy hands on her to steady her.

"S-s-sorry, Liver. He's my boyfraaan, you know?"

What the HELL. She was just telling me how much she DIDN'T WANT TO BE WITH HIM. What was she doing?!

"Yeah, whatever, Miley. Bye."

"I'll come find you at midnight, kay?"

"Whatever."

And before I knew it, they were walking away… hand in filthy hand. Try and GUESS whose hand had the adjective there.

And now I'm stuck here… now with seven minutes to go until midnight.

I'm not going downstairs, Stupid. I'm staying here forever, I've decided.

No, stop trying to convince me. I don't wanna see rats tongues jam into a perfect set of lips, okay?!

But there is food downstairs… and I am hungry…

NO. NO. I will not let my stomach lead me to destruction! Not this time! No!

Well… maybe a peek…

NO.

Oh, fine, Stupid. I will.

* * *

...

I am evil. Oh, so evil, I know. I was GOING to put the last part on here, but I didn't wanna cram it all together. So consider a gift for an extra chapter. By the way, most of the next chapter is NOT told through a journal entry. I thought it fit since I started the story without one, and would end without one as well.

Anyways, I'll update soon! And I actually can promise that this time. haha. So just leave me your thoughts on this ridiculously long installment! And your guesses about the ending!


	22. Finally

Here it is, guys… Kinda a day later than I promised (like 40 something minutes late), but I had a busier day Friday than I intended…

So yes… this is the ending. I really can't believe it.

But instead of going on and on with an author's note, I'm just going to let you read it.

WITH ONE LAST NOTE – The "thunderbox" thing in the last chapter is not true. I just remember back in seventh grade someone told me that, so maybe I should've done my research… uh, yeah. Sorry about that!

But yeah, with that out of the way, I now present you to the final chapter of Dear Stupid… and the first part... not told in diary form, so, just getting that out there.

_Disclaimer_: Yes. No. Maybe so? NO.

* * *

**DEAR STUPID  
**Chapter Twenty-Two: Finally

* * *

I took a deep breath and jammed my notebook into my zip-up hoody. There was no way on God's green earth, universe, Milky Way, Snickers bar, Skittles, etc. that anyone is EVER going to read the things I wrote about in there. Nooo way, Jose. And that also goes for anyone NOT named Jose. You could be named Muhammad or Chubaka or Spongebob Squarepants, you ain't reading it.

I didn't want to go downstairs. Truly, I didn't. But sometimes my stomach overrules just about any good judgment I have left in me. Like, one time Lilly told me that I needed to be quiet or else Miley would hear us. But that really didn't happen because someone just happened to be eating a yummy wonderful steak at the restaurant we were at, and my stomach was all, "GRRRRUMBLEEEEE FEEED ME!" in Stomachian, so we were caught by Miley and her boyfriend of the time, Howard.

Howard. More like How-would you name someone that?

But that story is about centuries old, so let's move on to the present…

When I made it downstairs, everything I saw was not what I expected.

Well, okay, that's pretty much a lie. I expected that there'd be a crowd of drunken people anxiously watching a big screen, plasma TV with their bottles and glasses held high. I imagined everyone to be singing, but not all the girls to be all, "If you wanna be my LOVER!" at the top of their lungs.

And Jackson with his arm wrapped around Lilly, who looked so ridiculously happy that it almost made me forget how unhappy I felt. _Almost_.

But one thing that wasn't right… Jerk Rat wasn't with Miley. He was standing closest to the TV, smiling… but Miley wasn't at his side. In fact, I didn't see her anywhere. And that… that worried me. A lot. A drunk Miley running around unsupervised? Yeah, that didn't lead to anything good in my head. Well… the removal of clothing comes to mind, which might be sort of good, along with some dancing, but let's not go there when she could be in danger. FOCUS, OLIVER, FOCUS!!

Oh crap, Lilly's suddenly spotted me.

"OLIVERRRRRRRRR!" she calls excitedly, waving spastically with her free hand that was not attached to one of Jackson's.

I give a small, cautious wave and walk slowly towards her.

She envelops me in a bone-crushing hug. AHHHHHHH. EWWWWWWW. Drunken Lilly is too affectionate for my taste. I silently pray to Jesus that Jackson wouldn't get oddly jealous and hurt me or anything because um, Lilly and I hugging is _not_ normal despite the prior events of my life, and I definitely didn't want her arms around me.

"Lilly, what are you doing?" I squeal, and then remember the alcohol she had consumed previously.

She laughs and snorts, then laughs more at the snort, and lets go of me, finally, thank God and Bruce Almighty.

"Just thanking you properly."

I raise an eyebrow. "For what?"

She snuggles back into Jackson, who grins pathetically at the gesture. Just get a room, really.

"For getting me and this lover-ly gentleman together," she replies sincerely.

Lovely, er, "loverly" as Lilly said, _gentleman_? _Jackson_? HAHAHAHAHAHA. Oh well, whatever makes her happy…

HAHAHHAHAHAA.

Oh man. That is something.

But still, seeing them so incredibly ecstatic to be together… it almost killed me. In two different ways. One, killed me with happiness. I'd never really seen Lilly so happy before, and seeing the guy she was with just as happy, it was… incredible. I also felt… killed with jealousy. I wanted what Lilly had. Er, no, not a boyfriend, but someone that liked me as much as I liked them…

_Miley_…

Oh, shit. MILEY.

"Er, yeah, you're welcome, but um, where's Miley?" I ask frantically.

Lilly looks at me oddly. "She said she went to go find you for the countdown or soooooooomething. HEHEHEHHEE." She has a freaky drunk giggle. "Dincha talk to her?"

Dincha. Really exactly what it sounded like.

But yeah, so my heart starts beating really, really, really fast. What the HELL was she talking about?!

"What, what? No she didn't!"

Jackson laughs.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU LAUGHING ABOUT, SHE'S YOUR SISTER, AND SHE'S MISSING, NOT TO MENTION DRUNK OFF HER ASS, I wanted to scream at the buffoon. Alcohol plus lovesickness is not a good effect on him! Oh, what am I saying? If I were dating Lilly, I'd go mentally and clinically insane.

Wait. I did date Lilly.

And I am insane.

Well, that's a pretty cool realization. I can just blame Lilly for everything.

"Well, she should've," Jackson says, interrupting me of my thoughts. "That's what she told us. By the way, she didn't seem too concerned with the idea of me and Lills here dating," he smiles wider and gives Lilly a squeeze. SERIOUSLY. ROOM, PLEASE. NOW. "She said we were sorta cute. But told Lilly to stay away from my cottage cheese and bacon breakfast, which is actually good if you give it a cha—"

"JACKSON!" I interject and grab him by the front of the shirt. Miley has taught me well… ack, MILEY! "WHERE. IS. MILEY!"

He squeaks very unmanly-like. "I don't know. Put me down!"

"What do you mean _you don't know?!_ She could be anywhere! ANYWHERE! She could've made it to Mount Kill-a-man-jaro by now!! " I shout, and Jackson yelps. "Do you know what they _do_ there? Just listen to its name! _Kill-a-man_-jaro! She's your sister for crying out loud, and she's drunk!"

"Miley's not a man."

OH REALLY, JACKSON? I DIDN'T NOTICE. THANKS FOR TELLING ME THAT HER BOOBS ARE, IN FACT, REAL.

"And don't you mean_Kilimanjaro?" he questions, and I yell in frustration into his face so he starts squirming and squeaking again._

Lilly thinks for a moment, seemingly not too concerned at the fact that I'm about seconds away from killing her boyfriend.

"I did see her go outside I think. Maybe she _is_ at Mount Kilimanjaro…"

I drop Jackson, who yelps yet again, and just run to the door. I don't care that there's five minutes left until midnight. All I care about is the fact that no one seems to be bothered by the idea that Miley could be lost and alone, and drunk, and lost, and alone, plus drunk, plus, alone, with terrible things happening to her…. Then again, everyone is drunk apparently besides me, so I'm guessing being drunk doesn't give you a sense of danger or whatever. Or a sense of intelligence…

I walk around the house, er, mansion, and that's when I see her.

She's twirling. Like, spinning like she's a ballerina in a jewelry box. And she's laughing. Oh yeah, she was doing all this in the MIDDLE OF THE STREET. A crazy woman, that Miley is.

I stride up to her, my heart's rapid beating slows a bit knowing that she is safe… I think. I don't think ballerinas could ever be evil… unless Jerk Rat was one… hahahaha, imagining him in a tutu… God, that'd make a number one Youtube hit.

"Whee!" she's giggling as she spins, and I reach out and take her into my arms, which proves to be a horrible move because her arm smacks into me wildly, and we end up rolling down onto the pavement.

"Liver?" she questions when we stopped and were just lying there next to each other. So, she's still drunk and I am still liver. _Awesome._

Her puzzled expression disappears. "LIVER!" and then she throws her arms around me.

I blush and hug her back awkwardly since it's hard to do so with the way we're positioned. I'm also reminding myself of her intoxicated state. She doesn't REALLY want to hug me this way…

"Um, Miley, let's get you back inside. You're gonna miss the countdown."

She recoils from me (wahhhhh) and starts rolling down the pavement like a bundle of hay. Er, does that even make sense? Oh yeah_… barrel_ of hay. There, that sounds better.

"No!" Miley says, now sitting up straight, and hugging her knees, pouting like a three-year-old.

"Why no?" I ask, crawling over to her.

"Because… because… _Jake_," she lets out, and before I know what's happening, she starts crying waterfalls again.

I guess it's okay because Jerk Rat really makes me want to cry, too, sometimes. I mean, have you seen his face? It's emotionally scarring… pahahhaa.

But anyways, my eyes still bulge, and I hesitate to put my arms around her. She kinda looks like she just wants to be left alone.

"What'd Jake do?" It's weird actually saying "Jake". I really want to call him The Biggest Asshole of a Rat I've Ever Seen, but Miley would probably yell at me for cussing or something.

"He… he won't stop touching me."

Really couldn't blame the guy, it's _Miley_ for Pete's sake (drool), but she obviously sounds like she wants her space.

"And, and, I wanted to come find you," she continues, sobbing into her thighs. "I didn't want you to miss out on the New Year. You're my best friend, Liver. My best friend, Liver," she, for some reason, repeated that. "Jake wouldn't lemme go. He yelled at me. Yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled and yelled—"

"Shhh, no, no," I say, placing a nervous arm around her shaking shoulders. "It's okay."

"—and YELLED AND YELLED AND YELLED AND YELLED—"

"Miley—"

She takes a deep breath. "AND YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLED!"

I cover my ears on reflex. Well, at least everybody in, oh, I don't know, THE WORLD would be awake now. After recovering, I slide my arm back around her.

"Miles, it's okay, shhh, just calm down—"

"No it's not! He broke up with me! This is the worst last day of the year ever!"

_Broke. Up. With. Her._

Angels are singing.

Worst Day of the Year? What? Was she _serious?_

Beautiful chords.

Beautiful _everything_.

The beautiful girl I'm holding in my arms… she's single now. SINGLE. AND… well, not ready to mingle, YET…

But for some reason, I'm not even that happy. The eff? I'm, like… devastated or something. Because Miles is crying. She's crying over some guy who has never once deserved anything she's given him, and he doesn't even deserve a single of the tears she is displaying. I want to jack him in the face… again.

And run away like a chicken. Again.

"How—How can he break up with you?" I whisper angrily.

"Because I'm stupid, Liver! He doesn't like that I like you."

I froze.

"L-L-Like me?" I repeat into her hair… which still smelt strongly of strawberries.

"Mhm," she nods quickly. "I like you. You're my best friend, Liver. My best friend, Liver." There she went with the repeating thing again…

My heart feels torn. Her best _friend_… _Always the best friend_.

"I like you, too, Miles," I tell her, a sickeningly sad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach. "You're _not _stupid either. I just… I can't grasp how he'd break up with you. There's no way I could see any logic as to why he would. He had the world, and he just… threw it away!?"

She sniffles. "What? The world? Liver, I'm not the world."

I hadn't even realized I'd said that until she pointed out. I felt my face burn up.

"The Earth is the world. Or… is it Mars? Gahhh, my head hurts, Liver. I can't think wrong. I mean right. Left?"

Well, _someone's_ a bit baffled. What do you even say to that?

"Er… do you just wanna get back inside?"

She stuffs her head into my chest. I smile on the inside, but not on the outside because… well, she doesn't like me like that… I was sure now… _painfully_ sure…

"Jake's in there," she murmurs.

"Who gives a shit about that loser," I say, not realizing I'm thinking out loud again. "I mean—oh, sorry, Miles, I didn't mean to—"

"No, it's 'kay. I'll go back inside. I haves an idea."

"An idea?"

She wipes a tear from her eye and smiles. A real, genuine smile. So pretty. Gahhh. "Yep yep yep." She sounds just like Ducky from the Land Before Time.

"Okay… then here," I stand up, extending my arms out for her to latch onto so she could also steady herself while she got to her feet.

"Thanks, Liver. You make me happy."

I smile slightly. God… she knew how to freaking torture an idiot.

I walk back into the mansion with Miley on my arm. Well, that doesn't sound quite right, because what she was really doing, was like… owning my arm. Like, she had her own arms latched onto my arm like letting go was death. Who knows, maybe when you're intoxicated, walking is about as scary as jumping off a cliff… or my mom's Man Voice.

Miley really would fail the "Walk the Straight Line Test", too. Holy shit. It was like maneuvering confetti. She was EVERYWHERE but where she needed to take a step.

I didn't mind, though. She smelt nice, despite the alchy on her breath.

We walk inside, and Lilly runs over to us. Okay, like hobbled like she had one leg or something because she wasn't totally sober yet.

"Guys, guys, guuuuuys! AND GIRL! MILEY, YOU'RE A GIRL!"

Yeah, _definitely_ not sober.

"New Year… one minute!" she says excitedly. Jackson comes up behind her, looking all-peaceful and stuff. He is so weirdly serious when he's drinking. It's like… not him.

The TV is now showing the ball drop. Hehe, ball drop… Balls drop… God, I am immature.

Miley starts bouncing up and down with my arm. I had lost feeling in it a while ago, so this doesn't bother me. Not like it _would _even if I would've had feeling…

Lilly eyes this movement curiously. I roll my eyes. I know what she's thinking.

"Oh, are you guys finally dating?" SHE ASKS OUT OF THE EFFING BLUE.

TO MILEY.

WITH THE WORD "FINALLY". AS IN LIKE, SOMEONE HAD BEEN WAITING FOR IT TO HAPPEN. _FINALLY_.

Miley appears startled. "I'm single."

Lilly gives her another baffled look, then over to Jerk Rat, who is already flirting it up hardcore with a stupid girl named… Ashley Dewitt.

Miley waves a hand as if to say, _"I'll explain later,"_ before latching it back onto me. Oh yay. Fingernail grippage. Not that I really mind… Miley's about the only girl who I'd allow to dig her manicured nails into me like this.

"20 SECONDS LEFT!! YAHOOOOO!" Lilly is screaming, and together, she and Miley are bouncing up and down like Tigger on crack.

Or some other, odd drug I want nothing to do with.

Jackson and I roll our eyes. _XX Chromosomes. _(Yeah, I pay attention in science! Suck on THAT!)

"COUNTDOWN TIME!" Lilly and Miley chorus together.

"10!"

Oh no.

"9!"

OH EFF NO.

"8!"

This is gonna make me want to—

"7!"

_Kiss_ Miley.

"6!"

She doesn't like me like that, though!

"5!"

Shit!!

"4!"

AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH.

"3!"

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

"2!"

BULLSHIT—

"1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

And suddenly, girls and boys are flying at each other's lips and bodies, and everyone was all makey-outty… except… me. And… Miley.

Even Jerk Rat is kissing someone. ALREADY.

WHAT A SLUT!

Miley is watching Lilly and Jackson make out with wide eyes. Probably something she would rather not see, but who knows if she'd remember this in the morning.

I am… watching Miley. Pathetic. Really.

"Happy New Years, Miles," I say shyly.

She turns to me then, which, not to brag, but I think I am a lot more interesting to look at than the… awkward exchanging of spit beside us. And this look in her eyes and smile like, tells me she totally agrees.

"Happy New Years to you, too, Oliver."

I gasp. "You remembered my name!"

I'm happy to hear a giggle from her mouth. God. It's like… a bell. It's better than a dinner bell. Seriously, too! That's how much I freaking adore this girl.

"Weeeeeeeeelll, DUH! Why wouldn't I?" says the drunken part of her, and then she suddenly spreads her arms wide. "Gimme a hug already!"

She doesn't need to tell me twice. I scoop her up into my arms, and she laughs as I hold her against me. She is wonderful this close… just… so _close_…

I let go.

And so far away.

She blinks innocently. "Oliver?"

"Er, Miley?"

"About Lexi."

OH, SHIIIIIIIITTTTTTT!!

"Am I…"

SHE KNOWS! SHE KNOWS! SHE'S GONNA ASK IF IT'S HER!

"…prettier than her?"

OH GOD ALMIGHTY THE APOCOLYPSE IS HERE, SHE KNOWS—wait, what?

"What?" I speak aloud.

"Prettier than her. I wanna know. Ssssseriously."

Drunken Mile speaks, er, slurs again.

I don't know how to answer this question. How could I say no? How could I say yes? SHE WAS TALKING ABOUT HERSELF. There is no way to lie! Or tell the truth!

So, me being the always Einstein human being that I am, I'm like, "You're prettier than anyone."

AHHHHHHHHHH.

THAT IS LIKE… SCREAMING MY FEELINGS PRACTICALLY!

And no, I'm not talking about the "AHHHHHHH."

Miley is overcome with emotion. She springs onto me and kisses me passionately.

Yeah effing right.

She's like, "Oh really?"

All un-interested and what not.

My life sucks. I want to die. That stupid were-weiner dog should've taken me while he had the chance.

I go, "Yeah."

God shoot me. Except… God wouldn't do that. He's a nice person… supposedly… but sometimes, the way he makes my life happen, I gotta wonder if he's making bets with Satan, aka my mom's ex love interest.

"Oliver… I haves a question thingy."

A question thingy. Oh, this can't be good.

"Can I kiss you?"

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!

DFLKFJKJSHDFKJDHKSDHFKSFDD

I CAN'T THINK, EXCUSE ME WHILE MY BRAIN TRIES TO RELOAD.

RAINBOWS AND BUTTERFLIES AND UNICORNS AND POPTARTS YUMMY AND RAVIOLI AND PIZZA ROLLS RANCH MILEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY KISSAAAAGEEEEE

BRAIN RELOADED.

Mouth function ON.

"Y-Y-Y-Y-Y-Y—"

Ten million centuries later:

"You wanna kiss me?"

Miley smiles. "Uh HUH! Please?"

PLEASE?! _PLEASE?! _LIKE IT WAS A _HARD_ DECISION!

Oh… Shit.

I just realized something. She's… _drunk_.

Oh, screw my life on a bench sideways in a park. She's drunk and wants to kiss me. Of course.

"Miley, you don't really wanna kiss me," I say, though she has taken a step closer to me, and I'm about to die with this little heat exchange radiating off her… or my… or OUR bodies…. In the words of Lilly, EEEEEEEP.

"But you wanna kiss me, riiiiiiiiiiiiiiight?" and she effing winks at me.

OH EFF YES I DO, YOU BEAUTIFUL CREATURE, YOU.

BUT HOW THE EFF DO YOU KNOW THAT??

"Miley, y-y-you're drunk."

"Avoidance of the question," she says seductively and starts backing me up against a wall. Oh, shit. OH SHIT. I never thought I'd be RUNNING AWAY from Miley kissage, but Holy Hell.

"Miles, you're—"

And that's when it happens.

_Finally._

Miley attacks me with her lips.

DFKJDLKJDLFJLFJDUFJHDFASJJ7864584585547365

... That's precisely what's going through my head at the moment.

Her lips are freaking on mine. MOVING ON MINE. Like, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

I can't control myself. I've waited too freaking long, so I kiss her back like, Eager McBeaver or something. And it feels… amazing. Like, I'm probably scaring the poor girl half to death because I just suddenly am holding her fiercely against me, and we're just like, making out hardcore-like and all.

MAKING OUT. M-A-K-I-N-G O-U-T. I CAN SPELL.

I AM MAKING OUT WITH MILEY STEWART.

HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLZ YES.

I don't know how long we've been… oh my God, hold on, I'm just not going to think while I'm doing this for a little bit.

………………

………………

………………

...

...mmm...

...

...

"PARTY'S OVER!!"

Wait, what? Why does that voice sound so familiar…?

"COPS!!"

Cops?! _WHAT?!_

I push Miley off of me (never thought I'd do that, EVER), and look to the door.

And.

My.

Mom.

Is.

Standing.

There.

Holy.

SHIIIIIIIIIITTTTTTTTTT.

I don't think really, just pray to God she hasn't seen me yet, and take Miley's hand and just run like the freaking wind out towards the backdoor. We had to get home. NOW.

Oh, shit. Miley's just tripped and landed in the grass.

She's giggling.

Oh, good God.

"Olllllliverrrr, slow down!"

I rush to help her back up, when I see people running towards us. Oh, shit shit shit shit, it might be the cops! Gripping Miley's hand, I dive us behind a bush.

"MILEY! WE CAN'T GET CAUGHT!"

"Oliverrrr, we won't behind a bush, silllyyy," and she leans in and kisses me like that's what I meant.

Automatically, however, I rush back into the kiss, my hands on her face and everything, before I let go.

I am _never_ going to get used to that.

"Miley, as much as I would love to keep doing that, the cops are here," I say, out of breath. "My MOM is here. I will be dead meat."

I look into her eyes seriously, and she smiles.

"But'chore not drunk!"

I sigh. "But you are, Miley."

She gasps. "How could you say that, I'm completely sober! One hundred and fiiiiiiiiiiifty eight hundred percent!"

I raise my eyebrows and look at her with a disbelieving expressions, and she appears guilty and holds up a hand.

"Okay, maybe I'm drunk… but only a teeeensy little bit," and she gestures with her thumb and index finger.

"Great, glad you can admit it, but we HAVE TO RUN!"

Once again, I grab her hand, and we take off running. I see Miley's purple car in the front of us… and oh good grief, Miley is heading for the driver's side.

"NO, Miley—"

"But I wanna drive!"

"MILEY!"

"Oh yeah, I'm drunk. I CALL SHOTGUN!"

I almost want to laugh at her, but I get into the car anyways, and Miley does, too, and she hands over the keys. I highly doubt Lilly would give hers to me this quickly and—

Oh, SHIT!!

WHERE ARE LILLY AND JACKSON?!

For once in my life, God like, answers my prayers because like magic, they appear in front of my headlights, looking like frightened mice (don't ask, it sounds good to me) and have no idea where to go.

"GUYS!" I call out the window loudly. "GET IN!"

They squint their eyes before reorganization and the small intelligence they have at the time takes over their brain, and they hop into the back seats. I don't even let a second go by as we finally high-tail it and drive away from the place. _Whew_… that was close.

"Thanks, Ollllllllliepop!" Lilly sings happily from the backseat.

"Lilly, if you ever call me that again, I'm going to slit your throat."

She was quiet the entire rest of the way home.

I got Lilly home safe and sound, though it was hard to get Jackson to stop kissing her so she could get inside. Like, really, I don't need to see any more of that. I had enough at the party. Ugh.

Miley was taking this whole "best friend dates her brother" thing quite well. She only gagged three times when they were making out on Lilly's doorstep. I would've bet on thirty.

The way to Miley's after that was awkward.

I was realizing exactly what had happened between us.

We… kissed.

Holy shit. WE KISSED. MADE OUT. OMFGGGGGGGGGG.

Would she even KNOW in the morning? What did this make us? Was everything going to be awkward tomorrow?! Er, today?

With Jackson in the backseat, I couldn't even ask anything about it to Miley. I may not have a little sister (but I do have a little brother demon thing I'm planning to sell on ebay), but I don't think I would wanna hear about her kissing anyone…

When we get to Miley's, Jackson runs inside the house like I've never seen a drunken person run. Kinda funny really. Hehehe. Miley is slow, however, and not moving from her seat in the car, and fumbling with her clothes. Oh, here it comes. The whole, "It was only the moment! Let's just be friends!" speech.

"Oliver," she says and looks at me all bashful and stuff.

God. She is ADORABLE. And I have KISSED THOSE LIPS—SCOOOOORE.

"I know I'm drunk. I'm sowwy I am, too."

Like I could be mad at the girl!

"It's okay, Miles. Even _I_ felt tempted at the party. There was alcohol _everywhere_."

She giggles, and I smile. I'm feeling pretty good right about now. Maybe this won't be the horrible conversation I'm anticipating…

"Well, I may be drunk, but you know…" she looks away. "I'm pretty sure I know what I'm doing."

I'm ultra confused. "About what?"

"You, silly. I… I like you. I'm pretty sure I do."

OMFGGGGGGGG.

"I… don't know. I didn't want Lilly Willy Milly Billy—"

"Tilly," I add for her, and she smiles.

"—to have you. It made me… jealoussssssss. So, um, I know, by the way."

"Know what?"

"That you love me. She told me. I've known since Sunday morniiiing. Tehehehe, you're also funny in your little diary thingamajig, you know."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH  
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

"YOU READ STUPID?!"

She laughs again. "A little bit. You're funny, Oliverrr. So, so, so, funny." And then she, out of nowhere, leapt on top of me and kisses my face. Not my lips. MY _FACE_.

Because I'm not sure what's going on at the moment, I grab her shoulders and drag her to a position where our faces are level.

"_What exactly did you read?!"_ I ask.

Another giggle. "I dunnn 'member. But you love me."

I bite my lip. "Is… that okay?"

"Yep yep yep." Ducky the Dinosaur speaks again. But my God, is she looking more and more and more and more beautiful by the SECOND… I can't restrain myself any longer.

"Well, then, let's try this again…"

I lean down and place my lips on hers; loving the feeling I get when she wraps her arms around my shoulders and kisses me back. I can't even believe it's happening. I really, really, super, to the eleventh degree, can't.

"I gotta go, Oliver."

She had suddenly drawn back. And I was suddenly… whiney.

"Nooooooooooo!" I sound like the drunk one now, but I don't care. I pull her back towards me. I finally get what I want, and she just wants me to STOP? OHHHH no. But that so would be my life's luck.

"Stay!" I command.

"You gotsta go home, too, Oliver," she says anyways. It almost makes my heart break. Okay, so it does. Pathetic. "Yo' momma wasn't very happy."

"You're right… " I sigh. "Well, goodnight then?"

"Mhm. Happy New Year, Oliver."

She kisses me again, and I press back a little harder than I intend, and she pulls away, laughing some more. I frown.

"Bye, Oliver," she gets out of the car, and it's just so sad to me. "Call me in the morning?"

I chuckle a little. "Welllll, I have this feeling that you aren't gonna want to talk in the morning…"

She stares at me. "And why's that?"

"You'll be a weeeeee bit hungover?"

"Oh yeah. I keep forgetting I'm drunk, tehehehe."

I roll my eyes and get out of the car as well. She looks at me, horrified, for some reason.

"YOU CAN'T STAY HERE!" she shouts, her arms waving around in the air like a crazy, mental institute person.

"Um, I'm not going to," I say, amused. "I'm just walking home, Miles. This is _your_ car, remember?"

"Oh yeah…"

"Night, Miles."

I start walking away, when I feel her arms tackle me around my waist. I fight off this huuuuuge ass grin… okay, no, I don't, it totally wins and takes over pretty much my entire face.

"Night, Oliver," Miley whispers and takes off running towards her house.

I watch after her, just to make sure she gets in safely, and just before she closes the door, she flashes me a smile, and darts inside.

I shove my hands into my pockets, giant smile clad on my face, and turn around.

The _worst_ last day of the year ever?

Try **Best.**

* * *

**Tuesday, January 1****st****, living room, 2:09 p.m.**

Dear Stupid,

I'm still grounded.

And I'm ecstatic!!

Some kind of oxymoron or something, I know.

But I thought I'd just let you know that I finally, FINALLY, FINALLY have the girl. So all is well in the world.

But my mom seems to not know anything of the incident of last night. She cooked me pancakes, so, um, that's definitely not something she'd do if she knew where I was… Trolliver doesn't have a clue either. He's been just as satanic as usual, biting my elbow and whatnot, and stabbing me with forks.

But it doesn't matter because I am the happiest person in the planet.

I'll get to brag to Dr. Harms about this later, and it's going to feel awesome. I really can't wait.

But oh, shit.

I have basketball practice still.

Damnit! I don't even _need_ to be on the TEAM anymore… I already got the girl. She's amazing by the way. Even though she was really grumpy this morning when I called her. She told me to go jump off a very tall cliff or building. She hadn't taken her Tylenol yet. TSK TSK… I love her.

Oh well. This thing called life is no longer messed up.

I can smile and mean it.

And Stupid, those twenty bucks my dad gave me?

Maybe, just MAYBE, I might get to use them… maybe.

* * *

**Few minutes later.**

Dear Stupid,

Mom just came in, holding my jeans from last night.

"How in the world did you get a hole _there_, Oliver?"

PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

Life is just too, too funny.

* * *

…. It's over. I can't really believe it… Wow. I know this ending probably sucked, but I tried my best. I know some of you have still been pestering me about a sequel… and um, I'm not going to promise you one. I left it kinda open to a sequel, JUST IN CASE, but for now, I need to get away from this story because weirdly enough, it's kind of a relief to get it over with and everything.

Gah, but I am still very, very, very sad. It's definitely the most popular thing I've ever written, and now… it's complete. Heartbreaking…

I don't really know what else to say, but to review and tell me if you thought it was okay and everything. What was your favorite part from the entire story? Your favorite Oliver quote? Anything like that… and I PROMISE I'm going to respond to every review for this story I get for this chapter. So, review and make me happy, and I'll answer any questions. :)

So… um, bye? Gosh, this is sad. Just know that my new Moliver fic will be up sometime next week, and it's a chapter one. I doubt it'll do as well as DS, but I'll try and stay positive.

I love you guys! Thanks for making this story a great success! Moliver forever!

**Love**,  
Broken Oken/Kaylee.


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